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THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CALIFORNIA 


LOS  ANGELES 


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titaitag*  <5wmng 


FOR  ¥0y?3§  PEOPLE. 


COMPILED 
BY  THE   AUTHOR   OF    "GRACE   MORTON." 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PETER  F.  CUNNINGHAM,  Catholic  Bookseller, 

No.  216  North  Third  Street. 

1865. 


N  the  small  village  of  L —  was  a 
neat  little  school  house,  built  of 
stone.  Over  the  porch  clustered 
•  in  sweet  profusion  roses  and  sweet 
brier.  On  one  side  was  a  play- 
ground, and  on  the  other  a  large  beau- 
tiful garden  in  which  stood  the  cottage 
of  Miss  Onslow,  to  whom  the  school  be- 
longed. She  was  well  qualified  for  the 
important  task  of  instructing  those  com- 
mitted to  her  care,  since  she  not  only 
taught  them  worldly  learning,  but  also 
planted  the  seeds  of  piety  and  virtue  in 
their  hearts.  She  was  universally  be- 
loved. 


622788 


4  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

One  morning  the  inhabitants  of  the 
usually  quiet  village  were  considerably 
excited  by  the  arrival  of  a  traveling  car- 
riage, drawn  by  four  horses.  It  con- 
tained a  lady  dressed  in  deep  mourning, 
a  little  girl  and  female  attendant,  and 
halted  at  the  door  of  the  school.  The 
pupils  all  threw  down  their  books,  and 
in  spite  of  the  commands  of  Miss  Onslow 
rushed  to  the  windows  to  gaze  at  the 
extraordinary  sight,  for  a  carriage  drawn 
by  four  white  horses  had  never  before 
been  seen  in  that  secluded  place. 

Miss  Onslow  went  out  to  salute  the 
stranger,  who  inquired  if  there  was  a 
cottage  to  be  rented  in  the  village.  The 
teacher  replied  that  she  wished  to  rent 
her  own,  which  she  pointed  out;  the 
lady  soon  proved  that  she  was  both  re- 
spectable and  independent,  and  the  terms 
were  quickly  settled.  She  took  posses- 


COTTAGE    EVENING  TALES.  5 

sion  next  day,  Miss  Onslow  removing  to 
the  school,  which  suited  her  best  as  a  resi- 
dence. Mrs.  -Grenville  (so  was  the  stran- 
ger named)  soon  became  a  favorite,  and 
her  little  daughter,  Nina,  won  every 
heart  by  her  piety  and  modesty.  .  Miss 
Onslow  found  the  lady  a  great  acquisi- 
tion, and  they  soon  became  inseparable. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  children,"  said 
Mrs.  Grenville  one  day,  "and  I  think 
we  might  both  amuse  and  instruct  them 
by  having  Saturday  Evening  conversa- 
tions, on  subjects  connected  with  religion 
and  morality.  I  will  give  one  every 
other  Saturday,  and  you  shall  give  the 
others." 

Her  friend  was  delighted  with  the  idea, 
and  the  next  Saturday  was  appointed. 


r 

"  Bear  with  one  another." 

Osr^> 

LARGE  number  of  children 
.assembled  at  the  cottage  at 
the  appointed  hour  in  eager 
anticipation  of  the  pleasure 
awaiting  them.  Mrs.  Gren- 
ville,  turning  to  Mary  Day, 
who  had  just  entered,  asked  why  her 
brother  had  not  come  with  her. 

"  Oh,  he  would  not  come  because  we 
had  quarreled — I  thought  him  very  un- 
reasonable— only  think  of  his  accusing 
me  of  stealing  his  marbles — of  being 
sulky  and  disobliging,  because  I  do  not 
want  to  play  at  his  boisterous  games.  His 


8  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

behaviour  to  me  was  perfectly  shocking, 
and  I  did  not  care  much  to  come  with 
him — but  what  are  you  going  to  dis- 
course about  this  evening?" 

"  You  have  furnished  us  with  a  very 
good  subject,  dear  Mary,  and  I  will 
relate  the  history  of  two  little  friends  of 
mine,  which,  I  trust  will  benefit  you,  by 
showing  the  fault  you  have  just  com- 
mitted towards  your  brother : 

"  Josephine  was  about  ten  years  old, 
and  her  brother  Charles  nearly  seven. 
Both  were  intelligent — were  generally 
obedient  to  their  parents,  and  might  be 
termed  good  children,  but  Charles  had 
lately  become  very  self-willed  and  over- 
bearing in  his  intercourse  with  his  sister, 
and  she  had  contracted  the  habit  of 
speaking  of  his  faults  to  whomsoever 
she  met,  without  necessity.  What 
would  you  call  that  habit,  Mary  ?" 


FIRST   EVENING. 

"I  believe  you  would  call  it  detrac- 
tion," she  replied,  blushing,  whilst  a 
tear  trembled  in  her  eye. 

"  You  are  right,  my  love ;  but,  to 
continue  my  story,  it  is  true  those  were 
great  faults  in  Charles,  but  still  hi 
faults  did  not  excuse  hers.  Their  uncle 
had  lately  returned  from  the  East  Indies, 
and  came  to  spend  some  months  with 
them.  He  was  in  very  bad  health,  and 
rather  peevish  when  there  was  much 
noise  or  bustle,  but  he  was  exceedingly 
fond  of  children  and  very  kind  to  them, 
though  he  never  weakly  indulged  them. 
Now  the  constant  contention  between 
his  nephew  and  niece  greatly  annoyed 
him,  and  he  resolved  to  endeavor  to 
cure  them  both,  for  their  own  sakes  as 
well  as  for  his  own.  One  molping  he 
told  them  he  intended  to  spena  the  next 
day  with  a  friend,  who  was  to  have  a 


10  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

sailing  party  on  the  lake,  near  his  own 
house,  and  that  he  would  take  them 
with  him.  They  were  very  much. de- 
lighted, for  they  seldom  had  such  an 
invitation. 

"A  few  hours  afterwards  Josephine 
rushed  into  her  uncle's  room  weeping 
bitterly,  and  said  that  Charles  had  be- 
haved in  the  most  outrageous  manner, 
and  had  broken  her  doll,  because  she 
had  refused  to  put  it  aside  to  play  ball 
with  him,  and  that  it  was  always  some 
such  scene  when  she  did  not  do  exactly 
as  he  choose — in  short  she  had  no  plea- 
sure in  his  company. 

"  'I  hope,  dear  uncle,'  she  continued, 
i  you  will  not  take  him  with  you  to-mor- 
row, for  he  will  spoil  all  our  pleasure.' 

"IIellbncle,Hiade  no  reply,  but  look- 
ing suddenly  at  his  watch  exclaimed  :  '  I 
had  irearly  forgotten  to  send  away  this 
letter,"  and  left  the  room. 


FIRST   EVENING.  11 

"  Soon  afterwards  Charles  entered  in 
search  of  a  book,  and  not  seeing  his 
uncle,  who  was  reclining  on  a  sofa,  ex- 
claimed: 'Josephine  is  so  cross  and  dis- 
obliging that,  if  my  uncle  takes  her  with 
him  to-morrow,  I  do  not  much  care  about 
going.  She  will  be  telling  everybody  I 
am  this  and  that.  I  hope  she  will  say  she  is 
sorry,  for  after  all  I  don't  like  to  quarrel 
with  her:  yet,  why  cannot  she  play  with 
me  in  the  way  I  ask  her?'  He  left  the 
room  muttering  that  she  would  spoil  all 
his  pleasure  if  she  went  with  his  uncle. 

"  The  next  morning  the  two  children 
were  bustling  about  at  an  early  hour,  and 
appeared  at  the  breakfast  table  dressed 
in  their  best.  Their  uncle  came  in  and 
remarked  to  their  mother,  that,  as  the 
day  was  so  beautiful,  he  ^hould  have  a 
delightful  ride  to  his  friend's  on  horse- 
back. 


12  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

"  <0n  horseback!'  exclaimed  Joseph- 
ine, '  Who  then  will  drive  us  ?' 

"  '  I  am  going  alone/  he  replied,  and, 
to  avoid  any  explanation,  he  bid  their 
mother  good  morning,  and  departed. 

"  The  children  were  speechless  from 
astonishment,  and  turning  an  inquiring 
look  towards  their  mother,  she  also  left 
the  room  without  noticing  them,  and 
they  remained  alone.  They  had  not 
spoken  to  each  other  since  their  quarrel, 
poor  children,  they  had  not  reflected 
that  if  they  had  died  that  night,  they 
were  at  warfare  with  each  other.  Their 
parents  knew  of  the  whole  affair,  but  at 
the  request  of  her  brother  had  not  inter- 
fered. 

"They  sat  and  looked  at  each  other 
for  some  time :  at  length  Josephine  said, 
'  It" is  all  your  fault  Charles,  that  we  are 
left  at  home — my  uncle  is,  no  doubt, 
displeased  at  your  conduct  yesterday.' 


FIRST   EVENING.  13 

" '  How  did  lie  know  it,  and  why 
did  he  not  then  take  you  ?'  asked  her 
brother. 

"  To  this  she  made  no  answer. 

'""Well,  then,'  continued  Charles,  'it 
such  be  the  case  let  us  resolve  never  to 
quarrel  again.' 

"'If  you  would  not  be  so  headstrong 
and  impatient  we  should  never  disagree,' 
replied  his  sister. 

"  'And  if  you  would  not  be  always 
telling  my  faults,  I  should  never  be  angry 
with  you  for  more  than  a  minute,'  re- 
plied Charles,  for  he  was  really  good- 
hearted. 

"  They  embraced  each  other  with 
many  promises  of  never  quarreling 
again. 

"  Their  uncle  returned  to  supper,  and 
related  the  delightful  party  on  the  water, 
a  pony  race,  and  other  varieties,  but 


14  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

never  even  glanced  towards  the  discon- 
solate children.  At  length  Charles 
rushed  up  to  him,  and  sobbing  bitterly, 
said,  'What  have  we  done,  dear  uncle, 
that  you  broke  your  promise  to  take  us 
with  you,  and  will  not  even  now  speak 
to  us  ?' 

"The  good  old  gentleman  told  them 
how  he  knew  of  their  disagreement,  and 
explained  how  sinful  it  was  to  quarrel ; 
then'how  wrong  it  was  in  Josephine  to 
relate  the  faults  of  her  brother,  keeping 
back  her  own.  'I  am  sure,'  continued 
he,  '  that  had  you  given  Charles  an  oblig- 
ing answer,  and  a  good  reason  for  not 
playing  as  he  wished  at  that  moment, 
he  would  not  have  been  so  unreasonable. 
You  have  no  right  to  repeat  his  faults, 
and  thus  injure  him  in  the  estimation  of 
another,  unless  with  fraternal  charity 
you  speak  of  them  to  those  who  have 


FIRST   EVENING.  15 

charge  over  him  for  his  good.  A  pious 
writer  says  :  '  If  thy  intentions  be  good, 
and  thou  really  mean  to  correct  the  fault 
of  thy  brother,  begin  by  correcting  thy 
own.'  "Was  that  your  intention  when 
you  complained  to  me  of  his  conduct 
yesterday  ?' 

"  Josephine  hung  her  head  and  burst 
into  tears. 

"  'And  you,  dear  Charles,'  continued 
the  old  gentleman,  '  learn  to  give  up 
your  own  will  and  condescend  to  that 
of  others,  and  remember,  that  if  we  are 
not  willing  to  suffer  anything  from 
others,  if  we  give  way  to  our  temper  and 
ill  humor  upon  the  slightest  provocation, 
how  can  we  call  ourselves  the  followers 
of  Him  who,  when  He  was  reviled,  did 
not  revile ;  when  He  suffered,  threatened 
not  ?  Ask  pardon  of  God  and  of  each 
other  for  your  faults,  and  if,  during  a 


16  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

month,  you  can  refrain  frorii  'similar 
ones,  I  shall  be  rewarded  for  the  pain  I 
have  suffered  in  thus  having  been  obliged 
to  punish  you  for  your  good.' 

"  The  children  embraced  each  other, 
and  from  that  day  were  inseparable; 
the  one  became  patient,  docile  and  self, 
denying;  the  other  charitable,  meek 
and  obliging." 

This  story  made  a  deep  impression  on 
Mary  Day,  and  when  she  went  home 
she  asked  her  brother's  pardon,  and 
after  struggling  with  her  evil  propensity 
of  talking  of  the  faults  of  others,  she 
was  heard  to  thank  God,  that,  through 
Mrs.  Grenville,  she  had  learned  to  know 
herself. 


"  Always  Tell  the  Truth." 


evening,  my  dear  child- 
dren,"  said  Miss  Onslow, 
"shall  I  select  a  subject  for 
the  evening,  or  will  one  of 
you  do  so?" 

A  little  boy  advanced  and  whispered 
something  to  her. 

"Very  well,"  she  replied,  "you  shall 
tell  the  story,  Eugene." 

The  child  blushed,  but,  without  hesi- 
tation, commenced  as  follows  : 

"  The  story  I  am  going  to   tell  you 
relates  to  those  children,  who,  when  they 


18  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

do  mischief,  try  to  excuse  themselves 
by  laying  the  fault  on  others.  There 
were  four  children,  named  Margaret, 
Nancy,  Janette,  and  Robert,  and  they  all 
had  the  fault  I  have  spoken  of.  One  day 
their  mother  went  out  to  dine  with  a 
friend,  and  said  she  hoped  they  would 
behave  well  in  her  absence,  and  not  give 
the  nurse  unnecessary  trouble.  For  a 
little  while  all  went  on  very  well,  but 
the  nurse  having  left  the  room  on  an 
errand,  Robert  broke  the  window-glass 
with  his  ball — Nancy  scorched  a  new 
frock,  just  made  for  her  by  her  mother, 
by  holding  it  too  near  the  stove  whilst 
warming  it  to  wrap  her  doll  in — in  short, 
when  their  mother  returned  the  room 
was  in  complete  confusion. 

"  '  "Who  broke  the  window  ?'  said  she. 

"'It  was  not  I,'  they  all  exclaimed, 
except  Robert,  who  said,  '  It  might  have 
been  one  of  the  srirls.' 


SECOND   EVENING.  19 

"  '  Well,'  replied  their  mother,  *  I  shall 
ask  your  guardian  angels  not  to  let  you 
go  to  sleep  to-night,  unless  I  am  told 
who  did  the  mischief." 

"  The  nurse  then  brought  the  scorched 
frock,  and  remarked  that  she  could  not 
imagine  how  it  had  become  so.  Nancy 
had  replaced  it  in  the  drawer  from 
whence  she  had  taken  it. 

" '  Who  did  this?'  inquired  the  mother, 
glancing  at  each  of  the  children. 

"  Janette  said  that  Nancy  was  always 
holding  things  to  the  fire,  and  the  latter 
retorted  that  she  and  Margaret  did  the 
same.  Each  one  laid  the  blame  on  the 
other,  but  each  concealed  the  truth,  not 
only  regarding  the  pieces  of  mischief 
spoken  of,  but  many  other  things  their 
mother  inquired  into. 

"  The  next  morning  their  excellent 
parent  inquired  how  they  had  rested  the 
night  before. 


20  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

"  *  I  could  not  sleep  at  all,'  said  Ro- 
bert. 

"'Nor  I,'  remarked  Nancy;  indeed 
they  had  all  been  kept  awake  by  con- 
science. W 

"  'Do  you  really  mean  to  say,'  inquired 
Robert,  f  that  my  gurdian  angel  kept  me 
awake  because — ' 

" '  Because  you  broke  the  window  ? 
Yes,  my  dear  child,  your  guardian  an- 
gel whispered  to  you  how  sinful  it  was 
to  disguise  the  truth,  and  try  to  lay  the 
blame  on  another.  And  did  he  not  whis- 
per to  you,  Nancy,  that  you  scorched  the 
frock,  and  wished  Margaret  or  Janette 
to  bear  the  blame  ?  I  will  tell  you  a 
circumstance  that  happened  when  I  was 
a  child.  I  was  playing  in  the  drawing- 
room  with  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
we  were  not  allowed  to  play  there.  You 
see  that  was  an  act  of  disobedience. 


SECOND   EVENING.  21 

One  of  my  brothers  struck  his  ball 
against  a  large  mirror,  and,  without  in- 
juring the  glass,  it  fell  upon  an  inkstand 
on  the  marble  slab  beneath,  upset  the 
ink,  which  covered  the  marble  and 
spoiled  several  books.  We  were  very 
much  frightened,  and  instead  of  running 
at  once  to  our  mother  and  telling  what 
we  had  done,  we  covered  it  over  with 
the  books.  Some  days  afterwards  my 
mother  discovered  the  slab  completely 
spoiled  with  the  ink.  On  being  ques- 
tioned we  all  denied  having  done  it,  ex- 
cept my  brother,  who  had  been  the 
offender — he  skulked  out  of  the  room  to 
avoid  being  questioned.  I  was  thought 
to  have  done  it,  as  I  was  very  heedless. 
I  would  not  tell  on  my  brother,  neither 
would  the  others,  so  I  was  punished, 
and  he  saw  me  punished  for  his  fault 
without  having  courage  enough  to  own 


22  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

that  he  had  done  the  mischief;  though 
we  were  all  to  blame  for  playing  there. 

"  'Some  months  afterwards  my  mother 
had  discovered  the  offender,  by  observ- 
ing that  my  brother's  ball  ha(\a  spot  of 
ink  on  it,  and  she  then  thus  spoke  to  us 
all: 

" l  My  dear  children,  what  was  your 
motive  in  concealing  the  spilling  of  the 
ink  from  me  ? — See  what  a  sin  you  have 
committed!  You  were  all  guilty  of  dis- 
obedience, in  playing  where  I  had  for- 
bidden you — you  all  allowed  the  inno- 
cent to  be  punished — you,'  turning  to 
my  brother,  '  were  the  most  wrong, 
because  you  left  any  of  your  brothers  or 
sisters  be  punished  for  your  fault — you 
were  all  wrong,  because  had  you  told 
me  your  brother  did  it,  begged  me  to 
pardon  his  carelessness,  and  owned  your- 
selves, to  have  been  guilty  of  disobedi- 


SECOND   EVENING.  23 

ence,  I  should  probably  have  pardoned 
you  all,  because  you  told  me  the  truth.' 
"We  never  again  committed  that  fault, 
and  I  hope  my  dear  children  that  you 
never  will.'  ' 

"We  are  much  obliged  to  you  Eu- 
gene, for  your  story,"  said  Miss  Onslow, 
"  and  I  doubt  not  that  if  any  of  your 
companions  here  have  ever  fallen  into 
that  fault,  they  will  remember  your  his- 
tory of  this  evening,  and  profit  by  it." 

"But  these  stories  are  so  short,"  said 
one  of  the  children,  "  can  you  not  tell 
us  something  else?"  looking  at  Miss 
Onslow,  and  then  towards  Mrs.  Gren- 
ville.  ' 

"  I  can  tell  you  one  pretty  much  on 
the  same  subject,"  replied  Mrs.  Gren- 
ville  :  "I  read  it  whilst  in  France,  and 
will  translate  it  for  your  benefit.  I 
knew  many  little  girls  there,  and  this 


24  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

story  relates  to  two  of  them.  It  is  called 
'  Sincerity  Rewarded/  and  commences 
thus : 

"'I  would  give  you  anything  not  to 
have  owned  it,'  said  little  Agnes  Mont- 
fort,  wiping  away  the  tears  from  her 
eyes,  and  turning  from  the  window, 
from  whence  she  saw  the  family  depart 
on  an  excursion  from  which  she  was  ex- 
cluded. 

"'Caroline  is  very  happy  now,  and  yet 
she  has  no  more  right  than  myself  to 
enjoy  this  pleasure.'  Thus  saying  she 
took  her  books  with  a  spiteful  air,  and 
began  to  study  her  lessons. 

"  The  day  that  Agnes  made  these 
melancholy  reflections  was  her  birth- 
day, a  period  looked  forward  to  by  her- 
self, and  her  brothers  and  sisters,  as  a 
day  of  pleasure.  It  was  the  month  of 
July,  and  Mrs.  Montfort  had  promised 


SECOND    EVENING.  25 

her  children  a  rural  feast  as  a  reward 
for  their  good  conduct.  They  were  to 
carry  provisions  with  them  and  dine  in 
the  woods,  and  in  the  evening  old  Mar- 
garet was  to  regale  them  with  strawber- 
ries and  cream  in  her  hut.  It  was  a 
beautiful  day,  when  an  act  of  disobe- 
dience in  the  part  of  Agnes  deprived 
her  of  sharing  in  it. 

"  On  the  evening  before  Mrs.  Mont- 
fort  had  permitted  the  children  to  play 
in  a  particular  part  of  the  garden,  not 
far  from  which  was  a  green  house  filled 
with  rare  flowers.  The  children  had 
often  been  forbidden  to  play  near  this 
building,  because  they  might  break  the 
glass  windows,  and  perhaps  destroy  the 
precious  plants  it  contained.  After 
watering  their  little  gardens,  Agnes 
proposed  to  Caroline  to  play  at  battle- 
dore in  the  meadow,  but  finding  that 


26  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

place  occupied  by  her  brothers,  who 
were  playing  with  a  balloon,  Caroline 
proposed  to  go  and  play  before  the  green- 
house, that  they  would  have  more  room 
there,  and  would  not  be  interrupted  by 
their  brothers. 

" '  But,  my  sister,'  said  Agnes,  '  you 
know  that  mamma  has  often  told  us  not 
to  play  there.' 

"  *  Oh !  I  have  not  forgotten  it,'  re- 
plied Caroline,  '  but  she  will  not  know 
it ;  besides  the  only  reason  for  this  re- 
quest is  for  fear  we  should  break  the 
windows  of  the  green  house,  and  we 
will  take  care  of  that.' 

"Agnes  yet  hesitated.  At  last  she  let 
herself  be  persuaded  by  her  sister,  who 
was  the  oldest,  and  the  game  com- 
menced. For  some  time  all  went  on 
very  well,  for  the  little  girls  were  very 
skilful,  but  at  length  Caroline  threw  the 


SECOND   EVENING.  27 

shuttlecock  towards  the  green  house 
window.  Agnes  prepared  to  send  it 
back  with  great  force,  but  missing  it 
she  struck  the  window  with  her  battle- 
dore and  broke  it  in  pieces !  Fright- 
ened and  confused,  the  girls,  not  daring 
to  enter  the  green  house  to  see  what  mis- 
chief they  had  done,  fled  to  the  other 
end  of  the  garden. 

"  'Ah,  what  shall  we  do  ?'  said  Agnes, 
sobbing,  'and  how  angry  mamma  will 
be  with  us,  she  who  has  so  often  forbid- 
bidden  us  to  play  there.' 

"  Caroline,  who  was  a  good  little  girl, 
was  as  much  grieved  at  her  sister's 
trouble,  as  by  the  misfortune  that  had 
happened ;  she  tried  to  console  her,  by 
telling  her  that  possibly  their  mother 
might  not  abserve  it. 

*'  *  Oh  it  is  very  certain  that  she  will 
observe  it,'  replied  Agnes,  'and  what 


28  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

will  she  think  of  us  for  concealing  it. 
and  then  if  she  asks  us,  can  we  den^ 
what  we  have  done  ?' 

"'No  certainly  not,'  replied  Caroline, 
'but  she  will  be  occupied  about  the 
feast,  and  really  she  will  not  see  the 
misfortune  that  has  happened  to  us.' 

"Agnes  felt  that  she  acted  wrongly 

O    v 

in  not  owning  immediately  the  fault  she 
had  committed;  but  the  fear  of  being 
deprived  of  the  pleasures  of  the  next 
day,  stifled  her  good  sentiments  and  she 
resolved  not  to  tell  her  mother,  hoping 
that  the  accident  would  not  be  discover- 
ed that  day. 

"  The  next  morning  the  children  rose 
sooner  than  usual,  and  at  ten  o'clock 
they  were  all  assembled  in  the  parlor, 
where  they  awaited  their  mother.  In 
the  midst  of  the  joy  and  bustle  of  the 
morning,  Agnes  and  Caroline  had  for- 


SECOND   EVENING.  29 

gotten  the  accident  of  the  previous 
evening,  but,  seeing  their  mother  enter 
with  a  grave  look,  they  recollected 
their  fault,  and  guessed  that  she  had 
discovered  it. 

"  'My  children,'  said  Mrs.  Montfort,  «I 
went  this  morning  to  gather  a  bouquet 
of  rare  flowers  to  present  to  Agnes, 
whose  feast  day  it  is,  and  I  have  found 
one  of  the  windows  broken  in  the  green- 
house. As  I  have  often  forbidden  you  to 
play  there,  I  can  scarcely  believe  you 
disobeyed  me,  yet  before  I  question  the 
gardener  on  the  subject,  I  desire  to 
know  if  any  of  you  have  been  guilty  of 
it?' 

' '  *  It  was  not  I,  mamma,'  exclaimed 
all  the  children  except  Agnes  and  Caro- 
line. 

"  Mrs.  Montfort  remarked  it,  and  ad- 
dressed her  oldest  daughter:  'you  do 


30  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

not  answer,  Caroline  ?  I  hope,  however, 
that  at  your  age  you  are  incapable  of 
disobeying  your  mother,  and  I  have  too 
good  an  opinion  of  you  to  believe  it; 
but  answer  me  sincerely,  did  you  break 
the  window?' 

"  Caroline  at  first  intended  to  tell  the 
truth  when  her  mother  questioned  her, 
but  the  shame  of  showing  herself  un- 
worthy of  the  confidence  placed  in  her, 
prevailed  over  her  more  upright  senti- 
ments, and  she  replied  almost  without 
hesitation  :  '~No,  mamma.' 

lt  Her  eyes  cast  down,  and  her  heart 
beating,  Agnes  awaited  the  terrible 
question  ;  after  a  moment's  silence  her 
mother  turning  to  her  said  :  '  Can  it  be 
you,  my  dear  Agnes  ?'  From  the  affec- 
tionate tone  with  which  Mrs.  Montfort 
made  this  inquiry  one  would  have  said 
that,  without  breaking  the  truth,  she 
expected  Agnes  to  say  no. 


SECOND   EVENING.  31 

"Agnes  was  almost  tempted  to  follow 
the  example  of  her  sister,  and  by  an 
evasive  reply  get  rid  of  any  further  ques- 
tion, but  thought  that  a  lie  would  offend 
God,  whom  she  had  been  taught  to  re- 
vere, conquered  all  others,  and  bursting 
into  tears,  she  exclaimed :  *  Yes,  mam- 
ma, I  have  been  guilty  enough  to  dis- 
obey you,  and  I  did  break  the  window.' 

"Mrs.  Montfort  appeared  extremely 
affected  on  hearing  these  words,  and 
said  very  sadly,  'Agnes,  I  am  very  much 
grieved  to  be  obliged  to  punish  you  on 
your  feast  day,  this  day  that  I  expected 
to  see  you  so  happy  !  But  the  reason  is 
still  more  grevious.  Disobedience  is  a 
grave  fault,  and  when  it  is  not  repressed 
may  cause  such  serious  misfortune  to 
children,  that  I  should  act  against  my 
duty  if  I  hesitated  to  show  my  displea- 
sure. I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  permit 


82  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

you  to  take  part  in  the  pleasures  of  to- 
day. Retire  to  your  study-room  and 
learn  your  lessions  as  usual ;  your  bro- 
thers and  sisters  will  follow  me  to  the 
country,  since  they  have  done  nothing 
to  merit  punishment.' 

"  On  hearing  this  sentence,  the  heart 
of  poor  Agnes  was  nearly  broken  with 
grief,  but  she  did  not  dare  to  murmur. 
Caroline  who  well  knew  that  she  deserv* 
ed  to  partake  her  sister's  punishment, 
but  who  had  not  courage  to  avow  her 
fault,  begged  her  mother,  with  tears,  to 
pardon  Agnes.  The  other  children 
joined  their  entreaties,  (for  Agnes  was 
loved  by  them  all,)  and  offered  to  pay 
for  the  broken  window  with  their  own 
money.  Mrs.  Montfort  was  inflexible  ; 
she  repeated  that  it  was  very  painful  to 
punish  Agnes,  but  that  her  duty  re- 
quired it.  Seeing  that  all  their  en- 


SECOND   EVENING.  33 

treaties  were  useless,  the  children1 
ceased  to  importune  her,  and  poor 
Agnes  retired  to  her  study-room.  She 
ran  to  the  window  and  saw  the  whole 
party  leave  the  house  ;  but  for  her  care- 
lessness she  would  have  been  with  them, 
and  it  was  when  they  were  out  of  sight 
that  she  involuntarily  exclaimed :  '  I 
would  give  anything  not  to  have  owned 
it!' 

"  She  even  thought  it  was  doubly 
unjust  to  punish  her  so  severely,  whilst 
her  sister,  who  had  partaken  her  fault 
of  disobedience,  and  had  also  added  a  lie 
to  that  fault,  was  caressed  and  rewarded. 

"After  having  wept  a  long  time,  and 
given  free  course  to  her  spiteful  and  sad 
thoughts  that  agitated  her,  she  at  length 
began  to  reflect,  and  called  to  mind  all 
she  had  heard  repeated  on  the  necessity 
of  being  sincere,  and  the  baseness  at- 


34  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

tached  to  falsehood.  She  began  to 
think  that  in  fact  she  had  told  the  truth, 
and  consequently  fulfilled  part  of  her 
duty.  This  reflection  calmed  her  in  a 
sudden  and  extraordinary  manner ;  soon 
she  began  to  study  her  lessons,  dried  her 
tears,  and  attended  to  her  duties  with 
courage  and  even  with  pleasure.  So 
true  it  is  that  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing acted  uprightly,  even  under  trying 
circumstances,  is  sufficient  to  recall 
calm  and  serenity  to  the  heart. 

"Thus  occupied,  the  time  passed 
rapidly  away,  and  before  Agnes  observed 
that  it  was  already  evening  she  heard 
the  laugh  of  her  young  brothers. — 
Knowing  by  this  that  the  party  had  re- 
turned, she  quitted  the  study-room  and 
went  to  meet  them,  and  without  com- 
plaining of  her  punishment,  listened 
with  great  interest  to  the  recital  of  their 
pleasures. 


SECOND   EVENING.  35 

"  A  short  time  after  this  Mr.  ^Evelyn, 
the  father  of  Mrs.  Montfort,  proposed  to 
give  a  feast  to  his  grand  children  and 
their  friends,  and  he  announced,  at  the 
same  time,  that  the  young  boy  and  girl 
who  should  have  given  the  best  proofs 
of  good  conduct  during  the  three  pro- 
ceeding months,  would  be  named  King 
and  Queen  of  the  feast. 

"  It  was  to  take  place"  in  fifteen  days, 
and  during  all  that  time  not  the  least 
fault  was  committed  by  the  young  pre- 
tenders, so  ambitious  were  they  of  the 
promised  honor.  The  day  expected  with 
so  much  impatience  at  last  arrived.  The 
children  assembled,  as  well  as  some 
friends  of  the  family,  who  were  invited 
to  decide  on  the  merits  of  the  candidates. 

"After  having  carefully  examined  the 
conduct  of  each,  Edward  Vivian,  a  boy 
of  ten  years  old,  whose  parents  resided 


36      COTTAGE  EVENING  TALES. 

in  the  neighborhood,  and  were  intimate 
with  the  Montfort  family,  was  unani- 
mously elected  King,  amidst  the  ap- 
plause of  the  assembly.  The  honor  of 
being  Queen  balanced  for  some  time 
between  Caroline  and  Agnes  Montfort, 
whose  conduct  was  generally  exemplary, 
but  at  last  it  was  decided  in  favor  of 
Caroline,  because  of  the  fault  committed 
by  Agnes  on  the  evening  before  her 
birth-day. 

"  Seeing  herself  thus  punished  a  second 
time  for  a  fault  of  which  her  sister  was 
equally  guilty,  Agnes  could  not,  without 
great  effort,  prevent  herself  from  ex- 
claiming against  the  injustice  of  this 
choice.  But  as  she  tenderly  loved  her 
sister,  who  had  at  the  time  been  sin- 
cerely grieved  at  her  disgrace,  the  gen- 
erous girl  contained  herself  and  kept 
silence,  The  crown  of  white  roses,  the 


SECOND   EVENING.  37 

sign  of  royalty  on  this  occasion,  was 
about  to  be  placed  on  the  Lead  of  Caro- 
line, when  a  gentleman  in  the  com- 
pany rose,  and  making  a  sign  to  prevent 
the  crowning  of  the  young  Queen,  asked 
to  be  heard. 

'"1  am  truly  grieved,  Madam,'  said 
he,  addressing  Mrs.  Montfort,  '  to  be 
obliged  to  divulge  the  faults  of  my 
young  friends,  and  still  more  of  those 
whose  good  conduct  is  so  remarkable — 
I  mean  that  of  your  daughters ;  but  the 
magnanimity  of  one  of  them  deserves  to 
be  rewarded.  I  happened  to  be  witness 
of  the  breaking  of  the  green-house  win- 
dow— I  was  walking  in  the  grove  unper- 
ceived  by  the  young  ladies,  I  overheard 
the  conversation  in  which  Caroline  per- 
suaded her  sister  to  go  and  play  there,  and 
the  resistance  that  Agnes  at  first  made  to 
this  proposal.  It  is  true  that  the  battle- 


38  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

dore  of  Agnes  broke  the  glass,  but  it  was 
inconsequence  of  Caroline  having  thrown 
the  shuttlecock  so  near  the  window  that 
the  accident  must  necessarily  happen. 
The  fault  was  equal  on  both  sides. — 
Agnes  alone  had  the  courage  to  own 
her  fault,  and  the  virtue  to  be  silent  on 
that  of  her  sister.  She  has  already  been 
punished  for  her  disobedience ;  permit 
her  now  to  receive  the  reward  of  her  sin- 
cerity. Her  upright  and  good  heart  has 
preferred  to  endure  a  personal  mortifi- 
cation rather  than  reveal  the  share  her 
sister  had  in  her  fault,  and  it  is  to  re- 
ward such  generosity  that  I  now  deprive 
Caroline  of  the  honor  you  had  decreed 
for  her.' 

"All  the  assembly  listened  to  this 
recital  with  as  much  surprise  as  admira- 
tion ;  whilst  the  unhappy  Caroline,  over- 
whelmed with  confusion,  retired  from 


SECOND   EVENING.  39 

the  circle,  where  she  had  triumphantly 
advanced  to  receive  the  crown.  Mrs. 
Montfort,  although  enchanted  at  the 
generous  conduct  of  Agnes,  was  deeply 
grieved  to  find  her  eldest  daughter  ca- 
pable of  such  duplicity.  She  thanked 
her  friend,  and  calling  Caroline  to  her, 
said: 

" '  I  think,  my  daughter,  that  it  is  not 
necessary  to  represent  to  you  the  conse- 
quences of  dissimulation,  for  I  see  how 
much  you  feel  the  mortification  to  which 
your  conduct  exposes  you.  But,  how- 
ever painful  it  may  be  to  blush  before 
your  friends,  the  pain  is  nothing  com- 
pared to  that  which  you  should  feel 
for  having  committed  such  a  fault  in  the 
sight  of  the  Almighty.  Ask  pardon  of 
Him  on  your  knees  for  such  an  oifence. 
I  impose  no  punishment  on  you,  un- 
happy child ;  pursuaded  that  your  con- 


40  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

science,  and  the  contempt  of  your 
friends  are  more  painful  than  any  chas- 
tisement I  could  inflict.  May  this  ter- 
rible lesson  be  useful  to  you,  and  learn, 
my  children,  that  a  fault,  however  well 
concealed  it  may  be,  is  sooner  or  later 
discovered.' 

"  Mrs.  Montfort  left  the  room,  and 
returning  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  took 
Agues  in  her  arms  and  tenderly  em- 
braced her,  saying :  '  I  cannot  express 
to  you,  my  dear  child,  the  pleasure  your 
conduct  has  given  me.  You  understand 
now  so  perfectly  the  advantages  which 
result  from  a  strict  adherence  to  the 
truth,  that  I  need  not  repeat  them. 
Preserve,  my  love,  the  same  integrity  in 
all  the  actions  of  your  life,  and  in  being 
happy  you  will  make  others  so,  and  be- 
come an  ornament  to  society.' 

"  She  then  took  the  crown  of  roses 


SECOND    EVENING.  41 

and  proclaimed  Agnes  the  queen  of  the 
feast,  and  fastened  around  her  waist  a 
blue  ribbon,  on  which  her  name  was 
hastily  but  distinctly  embroidered. 

"The  day  passed  in  pleasure,  and 
Caroline  felt  her  grief  lessen,  as  she 
witnessed  the  efforts  of  her  little  sister 
to  dissipate  her  melancholy.  I  will  only 
add  that  Agnes  became  as  amiable  a 
woman  as  she  had  been  a  child,  and 
Caroline,  never  forgetting  the  terrible 
lesson,  became,  like  her  sister,  a  model 
of  goodness. . 


I 


•r  N  this  evening  Miss  On- 
Jj  slow  proposed  to  relate 
>me  short  stories  which 
she  had  translated  from  the 
French,  for  the  amusement 
and  instruction  of  her  little 
scholars.  She  began  with  the  story  of 
Annette  and  Richard. 

"Annette  and  Richard  were  the  child- 
ren of  a  poor  laborer.  Having  lost 
their  parents  when  very  young,  they  re- 
solved to  go  to  the  nearest  city  to  gain 
a  livelihood.  Richard,  who  was  twelve 
years  old,  intended  to  carry  messages 


THIRD   EVENING.  43 

for  those  who  would  employ  him.  An- 
nette, who  was  much  younger,  desired 
also  to  work,  but  she  did  not  know  ex- 
actly in  what  way.  It  is  worthy  of  re- 
mark that  in  this  melancholy  situation 
these  poor  children  never  thought  of 
begging  their  bread.  An  interior  voice 
whispered  that  it  would  be  shameful  to 
beg,  when  they  had  youth,  health  and 
strength.  Nature  frequently  gives  an 
elevated  soul  and  excellent  heart  to  the 
most  obscure. 

"Without  luggage,  provisions  or 
money,  these  children  started  for  the 
city.  Night  overtook  them  in  the  forest ; 
they  crouched  under  a  tree  and  fell 
asleep  in  the  calm  of  innocence  and 
poverty ;  for,  after  having  gathered  some 
wild  fruits  to  appease  their  hunger,  they 
had  no  other  inquietude.  The  next 
morning  they  had  yet  twenty-one  miles 


44  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

to  go.  Richard,  who  had  slept  well,  felt 
refreshed  and  active,  but  Annette  was 
fatigued.  This  last  part  of  their  jour- 
ney, though  most  fi  equented,  was  barren 
and  unfruitful  for  our  little  travelers. 
Neither  fruit  nor  any  kind  of  roots 
could  they  discover  to  refresh  themselves 
with,  and  they  were  very  hungry. 
Nothing  would  have  tempted  them  to 
enter  any  of  the  houses  situated  on  the 
roadside,  and  if  they  saw  anybody  they 
looked  timidly  at  them,  and  continued 
their  journey  in  silence. 

"At  last  overcome  by  hunger,  thirst 
and  weariness,  Annette  began  to  weep  ;. 
Richard  consoled  her  as  well  as  he  could 
— took  her  on  his  back  and  carried  her 
several  miles ;  but,  at  length  exhausted 
by  his  fatigue,  he  fell  on  the  ground 
with  his  burden.  The  courageous  child 
rose  without  murmuring,  and  again 


THIRD   EVENING.  45 

endeavored  to  carry  his  sister,  but  it 
was  impossible.  They  were  but  a  short 
distance  from  a  beautiful  castle,  the 
owner  of  which,  generally  absent,  had 
arrived  at  it  about  an  hour  before.  The 
keeper,  occupied  in  the  different  apart- 
ments, had  left  all  the  doors  open ;  the 
master  was  walking  in  the  garden, 
whilst  his  people  were  preparing  an  ex- 
cellent repast. 

"  Struck  by  the  beauty  and  splendid 
appearance  of  the  castle,  the  children 
approached,  and  in  gazing  at  this  mag- 
nificent abode,  partly  forgot  their  sor- 
rows. Seeing  nobody  they  took  cour- 
age ;  from  the  hall  they  entered  the 
dining-room.  There  large  open  side- 
boards showed  pyramids  of  superb  fruit, 
sweetmeats  and  wines  of  every  sort. 
The  children  remained  to  examine  this 
excellent  dessert,  but,  as  self-denying  as 


46  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

they  were  honest,  they  did  not  attempt 
to  approach  it.  Richard  only  wished 
his  sister  had  a  little  of  the  clear  water 
that  sparkled  in  the  glass  pitcher. 
Whilst  examining  these  objects,  so  en- 
tirely new  to  them,  they  perceived  near 
the  place  where  they  stood,  a  basket 
filled  with  rolls ;  Annette  pushed  Rich- 
ard and  pointed  to  it.  He,  fearing  with- 
out doubt,  that  extreme  hunger  might 
cause  his  sister  to  take  one,  seized  her 
by  the  arm  and  drew  her  from  the  room 
— the  poor  little  child  fell  fainting  in 
the  doorway. 

"But  the  owner  of  the  house  had  fol- 
lowed the  children  without  their  per- 
ceiving him.  Witness  of  their  delicacy 
and  extreme  honesty,  he  felt  interested 
in  them ;  and  was  thinking  of  the  means 
to  be  useful  to  them,  when  Annette's 
accident  decided  him  to  call  for  help. 


THIRD   EVENING.  47 

They  soon  recovered  her,  and  the  frank 
and  simple  narrative  of  their  misfor- 
tunes made  such  an  impression  on  the 
humane  gentleman  that  questioned  them, 
that  he  took  them  under  his  protection 
and  provided  for  their  welfare." 

The  next  story  was  called  "  Michael ; 
or,  God  Punishes  Disobedience." 

"Mathurine  frequently  said  to  her 
son:  'Beware,  Michael,  of  ever  taking 
anything  from  the  orchard  of  our  neigh- 
bor, Father  Blaise ;  for  the  great  God 
will  punish  you.' ' 

"Now  Mathurine  knew  that  Michael 
had  not  his  equal  in  disobedience.  She, 
therefore,  tried  to  inspire  him  with  the 
fear  of  God ;  for  he  did  not  fear  her  at 
all;  besides,  he  was  much  oftener  run- 
ning in  the  fields  than  quiet  at  home. 

"  Michael  did  not  touch  the  trees  of 
Father  Blaise  during  all  that  spring, 


48  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

and  that  was  something  gained ;  he  did 
not  always  wait  for  the  fruits  to  ripen 
before  he  ate  them;  they  perceived  that 
in  his  mother's  garden  the  apple,  pear 
and  plum  trees  were  stripped  before 
their  fruits  were  fairly  grown.  Michael 
would  not,  perhaps,  have  taken  any- 
thing in  his  neighbor's  orchard  but  for 
a  peculiar  circumstance.  He  was  very 
fond  of  cherries,  and  there  were  none 
in  his  own  garden,  but  to  make  amends 
the  garden  of  Blaise  was  full  of  them. 
"  Michael  passed  and  repassed  inces- 
santly before  those  large  red  cherries,  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  gazing  at  them. 
What  a  pity  to  be  confined  to  simply 
look  at  the  tempting  fruit ! — he  could 
easily  climb  the  wall  of  the  garden, 
stretch  out  his  arm,  then  take  a  handful 
of  cherries — this  could  be  so  quickly 
done  !  Father  Blaise  would  not  see  him 


THIRD   EVENING.  49 

— he  would  not  miss.  But  the  great 
God  will  punish  him  his  mother  has 
said.  Bah!  that  is  only  a  fable;  my 
mother  said  so  only  to  frighten  me ! 

"  Thus  spoke  Michael.  Such  is  always 
the  language  of  wicked  children,  who 
respect  neither  father  nor  mother;  so 
the  great  God  forsakes  them. 

"Gluttony  and  disobedience  then  drove 
Michael  to  steal  the  cherries  of  his  neigh- 
bor. At  the  close  of  the  day  he  crept 
along  the  wall,  climbed  it  in  two  bounds, 
and  was  in  the  tree.  If  he  had  followed 
his  first  thought  and  taken  only  a  hand- 
ful of  cherries  Ij.  haste,  perhaps  he  would 
have  left  the  tree  safe  and  sound ;  but 
to  punish  him,  God  permitted  that  after 
having  remained  in  it  a  long  time  eat- 
ing cherries,  he  must  yet  fill  his  pockets. 
"Now,  there  were  some  sportsmen  in 
the  fields.  As  they  were  returning  one 


50  C01TAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

of  them  perceived  a  rabbit  very  near 
Blaise's  garden,  and  he  shot  at  it.  It 
was  exactly  under  the  spot  where  Mi- 
chael was.  The  little  boy  was  so  terri- 
fied that  he  fell  like  one  dead,  at  the 
foot  of  the  tree.  Blaise,  hearing  the 
noise,  hastened  to  the  place,  thinking  he 
should  find  some  game  in  his  enclosure. 
At  the  sight  of  Michael,  without  con- 
sciousness, he  drew  back;  he  believed 
him  $ead.  Having  recovered  him,  he 
conducted  him  home.  The  appearance 
of  Michael,  pale  and  haggard,  dis- 
tressed his  mother,  but  she  soon  under- 
stood that  he  had  been  more  frightened 
than  hurt. 

"When  they  were  alone,  Mathurine 
said  to  her  son:  'Michael,  will  you 
ever  again  steal  cherries  from  Father 
Blaise  ?' 

"  '  Oh !  no,  my  mother,"  he  replied ; 


THIRD    EVENING.  51 

'the  great  God  has  indeed  punished 
me,  as  you  have  often  said ;  I  promise 
never  again  to  disobey  you.' 

"  Michael  kept  his  word,  and  he  did 
well." 

Miss  Onslow  then  related  the  story  of 
"The  Nuremberg  Doll." 

"Imagine  to  yourselves,  dear  child- 
ren, a  parlor  somewhat  in  confusion ;  a 
trunk  is  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and 
a  lady,  seated  by  it,  draws  out  one  article 
after  another.  This  lady  has  just  re- 
turned home.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
trunk  stands  a  pretty  little  girl,  with 
dark  curly  hair  and  rosy  cheeks.  Her 
eyes  sparkle  like  diamonds  as  she  gazes 
on  the  trunk  with  an  air  of  expectation 
— she  is  waiting  to  see  what  her  mother 
has  brought  her. 

"Suddenly  the  mother  stops  and  kiss- 
ing her  daughter,  says:  'Louisa,  you 


52  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

know  a  little  of  geography.  Do  you  know 
where  Nuremberg  is  ?' 

"  'Nuremberg,  a  city  of  Germany,' 
replied  Louisa,  in  the  tone  of  a  parrot ; 
'  they  preserve  in  the  church  of  the  hos- 
pital the  ornaments  that  are  used  in  the 
coronation  of  Emperors ;  all  Europe  is 
filled  with  the  little  works  of  Nurem- 
berg.' Here  the  roguish  Louisa  quitted 
the  monotonous  tone  she  had  com- 
menced with  to  give  a  certain  emphasis 
to  her  words — '  the  artists  are  skillful  in 
fabricating  the  most  beautiful  toys  for 
children.' 

"Here  Madam e-de  Merval  interrupted 
her  by  taking  from  the  trunk  a  charm- 
ing little  doll — not  very  little  either — it 
was  twelve  inches  in  height.  Its  dress 
was  black,  trimmed  with  gold  cord  and 
bows  of  black  satin  ribbon,  long  sleeves 
•down  to  the  wrist,  and  a  black  lace  cap. 


THIRD    EVENING.  53 

A  short  robe  over  the  dress  was  trimmed 
with  black  lace  and  gold  flowers ;  on  ita 
head  was  a  wreath  of  gold  flowers  that 
trembled  at  every  movement. 

"  Oh,  how  joyfully  Louisa  thanked  her 
mother  for  such  a  charming  doll. 

"  'I  wish,  Louisa,'  said  Madame  de 
Merval,  as  she  placed  it  in  her  hand,  'I 
wish  this  doll  to  stand  always  on  the 
mantel-piece  by  the  side  of  your  bed; 
she  is  named  like  yourself;  you  will 
look  at  her  every  morning  and  evening; 
you  will  consult  her,  for  she  is  a  good 
counsellor;  she  is  not  curious,  and  al- 
ways says  her  prayers.  You  will  be 
careful  not  to  take  her  off"  the  stand,  for 
she  would  no  longer  be  pretty.' 

"  At  this  moment  the  doll  extended  her 
arms,  folded  them  together,  and  made 
such  a  pretty  salutation  to  Louisa  that 
she  was  near  letting  her  fall,  through 
astonishment. 


54  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

"  'Well,  Louisa,  you  admired  just  now 
only  her  beauty ;  you  see  that  there  is 
something  better  than  that  in  her — tal- 
ent and  goodness.  She  is  your  little 
friend,  and  yet  you  will  not  always  love 
her,  because  she  will  tell  you  the  truth 
without  disguise.' 

"Louisa  carried  the  precious  doll  to  her 
chamber,  and  looked  at  her  until  night. 
She  expected  another  salutation,  but  the 
doll  did  not  make  it  until  Louisa  was  in 
bed.  She  soon  fell  asleep,  and  did  not 
awaken  until  her  mother  came  to  em- 
brace her  for  the  last  time  and  to  look 
if  the  doll  was  still  whole.  She  turned 
it  every  way,  and  at  length  placed  it 
again  by  the  side  of  Louisa's  bed. 

"  The  writer  of  the  story  goes  on  to 
say,  I  request  my  young  friends  to  be- 
lieve that  I  relate  only  what  I  have  wit- 
nessed— for  it  is  that  only  which  gives 


THIRD   EVENING.  55 

a  little  value  to  this  history.  "What 
would  childish  things,  invented  by  my- 
self, be  worth?  Besides,  I  am  incapable 
of  it.  Thus  I  shall  not,  on  my  own 
authority,  say  that  Louisa,  good  and 
amiable  otherwise,  sometimes  forgot  her 
prayers  or  her  reading,  and  had  an  ex- 
treme curiosity ;  these  would  be  calum- 
nies from  which  I  should  guard  myself. 
I  should  neither  have  any  merit  in  say- 
ing, without  it  was  so,  that  the  name  of 
Louisa  had  degenerated  into  a  genteel 
diminutive,  and  that  generally  she  wras 
called  Loulou.  They  called  her  Loulou 
when  she  had  been  discreet,  studious 
and  industrious — and  Madame  de  Mer- 
val  having  presented  the  doll  as  a  very 
sensible  doll,  she  was  named  Loulou. 
There  was  a  learned  old  man,  a  friend 
of  the  family,  who  told  Louisa  one  day 
that,  in  the  Arabic  language,  Loulou  sig- 
nified pearl,  and  she  was  much  pleased. 


56  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

"  She  had  then  slept  near  her  Loulou 
without  awakening,  but  not  without 
seeing  her  in  a  fine  dream,  which  only- 
ended  at  daylight  with  sleep.  Imme- 
diately she  jumped  out  of  bed  and  flew 
towards  her  sister  Loulou,  her  well- 
beloved.  This  was  her  first  thought, 
but — wonderful !  Behold,  Loulou  half 
closes  her  eyes,  joins  her  two  hands, 
bends  and  kneels,  just  as  if  she  had 
said:  'Miss  Louisa  you  have  forgotten 
your  prayers;  you  must  think  of  God 
and  your  mother  before  you  think  of 
me.' 

"Louisa,  scarcely  recovered  from  her 
astonishment,  said  her  prayers  and  went 
to  relate  to  her  mother,  in  a  tone  of 
rapture,  what  had  happened.  She  went 
to  own  her  fault  with  candor ;  she  had 
repaired  it;  and  the  feeling  of  being 
corrected  renders  one  so  content  with 
one's  self. 


THIRD   EVENING.  57 

"I  must,  however,  interrupt  my  story, 
to  mention  a  circumstance  that  you  have 
no  doubt  already  divined.  The  Nurem- 
berg doll  was  cm  springs.  Madame  de 
Merval,  in  passing  through  that  city  on 
her  way  to  Venice,  had  conceived  the 
idea  of  ordering  the  most  able  artizan 
to  make  a  mechanical  doll,  of  the  differ- 
ent movements,  by  which  lessons  might 
be  given  to  her  child,  whose  faults  she 
knew;  she  had  wound  up  the  doll  that 
she  might  kneel,  for  she  foresaw  that 
Louisa  would  forget  her  prayers.  There 
were  in  the  pedestal  as  many  impercept- 
ible holes  as  were  necessary  to  wind  up 
the  different  movements  of  the  doll; 
and  you  understand  that  Madame  de 
Merval  had  only  to  come  every  even- 
ing, and  having  observed  the  conduct 
of  Louisa  during  the  day,  wind  up  the 
springs.  She  had  been  constrained  to 


58  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

adopt  this  means  of  correcting  her 
daughter,  as  if  the  words  of  a  tender 
mother  ought  not  to  be  more  powerful 
than  anything  else  in  the  world. 

"  The  day  passed  well,  hecause  it  had 
begun  well;  and  after  having  contem- 
plated, with  admiration  and  a  sort  of  re- 
spect, the  graceful  Loulou,  Louisa  went 
to  bed  contentedly,  and  slept  so  well 
that  her  mother  could  kiss  without 
awakening  her;  and  it  was  only  wThen 
the  rising  sun  shone  on  her  eyelids  that 
she  was  aroused.  Scarcely  out  of  bed, 
this  time,  she  fell  on  her  knees  and 
prayed  with  all  her  heart  for  her  mother. 
Children  would  never  fail  to  pray  for 
their  mother  if  they  knew  what  bles- 
sings their  voices  draw  down  on  their 
families.  "When  she  had  finished,  she 
had  her  reward.  Loulou  was  content 
with  her,  and  began  to  dance  with  joy; 


THIRD    EVENING.  59 

and  the  gold  flowers  that  covered  her 
head  trembled  and  glittered  in  the  sun- 
beams. Louisa  ran  directly,  out  of 
breath,  joyful  and  wondering,  to  relate 
the  miracle  to  her  mother,  who  tenderly 
embraced  her.  The  day  passed  thus 
well  and  praiseworthily,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Nuremberg  doll.  It  was 
wonderful.  Louisa  was  discreet,  obe- 
dient; and  it  would  have  been  perfect^ 
if  she  had  oftener  thought  of  her  books 
and  piano. 

"Now  one  day,  as  usual,  the  second 
thought  of  Louisa  had  been  for  her 
Loulou;  and,  looking  at  her  very  ten- 
derly, she  perceived  her  little  fingers 
running,  one  after  another,  as  upon  the 
key-board  of  a  piano.  It  was  a  finger- 
ing so  light  and  graceful  that  one  almpst 
expected  delightful  sounds,  and  listened 
in  silence.  Then  the  hands  of  Loulou 


60  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

stopped  and  took  out  of  the  pocket  of 
her  dress  a  little  book,  and  the  doll 
fixed  her  eyes  upon  it  as  if  she  read 
attentively.  Madame  de  Mental  per- 
ceived during  the  day  that  JLoulou  had 
done  her  duty  well,  for  her  daughter 
was  delightfully  studious  and  attentive; 
and  this  result  was  of  long  duration,  so 
that  her  mother  was  quite  happy. 

"But  she  yet  desired  to  see  Louisa 
cease  to  he  curious.  The  little  girl 
would  search  about  in  every  direction, 
read  in  every  book,  and  her  mother  had 
seen  her  listening  at  the  doors.  This  is 
almost  as  odious  a  fault  in  a  child  as 
lying,  because  it  leads  to  falsehoods ; 
and  then  it  is  very  unworthy,  for  it  is 
an  abuse  of  confidence.  Madame  de 
Mejval  resolved  to  punish  her  for  it  a 
little  severely.  One  day  she  caught  her 
reading  a  letter — half  opening  it,  to  see 


THIRD   EVENING.  61 

if  it  was  an  invitation  to  a  dance — and, 
by  the  way,  Louisa  was  punished  even 
by  her  curiosity,  in  learning  that  the 
dance  was  not  to  be  given ;  her  mother 
invited  two  or  three  of  her  little  friends 
to  pass  the  day  with  her.  You  under- 
stand that  Loulou  was  at  her  post. 
Already  Louisa,  the  little  mistress  of 
the  house,  had  done  the  honors  towards 
her  doll,  by  relating  the  fine  things  she 
did. 

"  l  In  short,  would  you  believe  that  she 
sees  all  I  do ;  and  that  she  dances  when 
I  do  well,  and  gives  me  lessons  when  I 
do  ill.  She  always  tells  the  truth ;  she 
is  never  deceived ;  she  divines  all ;  she 
knows  all.' 

"Whilst  Louisa  was  thus  praising  her 
she  did  not  perceive  that  Loulou  began 
to  be  animated ;  she  stretched  her  neck 
as  if  to  listen,  and  then  she  drew  from 


62  COTTAGE   EVENING  TALES. 

her  pocket  a  letter,  and  opening  it, 
seemed  to  read.  The  little  girls  laughed 
outright,  while  Louisa  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
'Naughty  Doll!  she  has  not  seen  me 
do  it,  notwithstanding.' 

"  'Ah !  ah !  Louisa,  she  tells  the  truth 
— you  listen,  then,  at  doors  ?  You  read 
letters  secretly?  Oh!  that  is  very  ugly.' 

"And  Louisa,  who  had  already  hi ushed 
at  the  movements  of  her  doll,  blushed 
yet  more  at  the  reproaches  of  her  com- 
panions— but  this  blush  was  not  so  much 
from  repentance  as  from  anger,  and  she 
determined  to  be  revenged  on  the  doll 
which  had  caused  such  a  scene ;  she 
seized  her  abruptly,  and  without  doubt, 
was  going  to  break  her  to  pieces,  say- 
ing, with  anger,  '  It  is  not  true,  young 
ladies;  she  is  a  liar.'  She  held  the  doll 
by  her  head  and  feet,  as  if  to  break  her 
in  two,  while  her  little  friends  begged 


THIRD   EVENING.  63 

her  to  spare  Loulou.  All  at  once  her 
mother  entered  and  looked  very  sternly 
at  Louisa,  who,  very  much  confused, 
replaced  the  doll  on  the  mantel-piece. 

"'Ah!  Louisa,'  said  she,  'you  wished 
to  get  rid  of  looks  which  both  observed 
and  warned  you ;  you  could  never  suc- 
ceed, my  child,  for  besides  the  vigilant 
eye  of  your  mother,  there  is  One  above 
whom  your  little  hands  could  never 
reach.  Come  here :*  I  wish  for  your  only 
punishment  to  show  you  what  you  were 
going  to  destroy,  and  you  will  repent 
and  be  ashamed  of  your  anger.' 

"Madame  de  Merval  then  took  the 
doll,  opened  the  pedestal  where  the 
springs  were,  and  wound  it  up,  'see, 
young  ladies.  And  the  springs  played 
charmingly,  and  the  doll  danced.  The 
children  were  delighted. 

" '  See,  my  Louisa,  the  secret  of  the 


64  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

lessons  given  you  by  Loulou.  It  ia  the 
work  of  man,  where  there  is  neither 
wonder  nor  miracle.  It  was  always 
myself,  who,  after  having  watched  your 
faults  through  the  day,  recalled  them  to 
you  next  morning  by  means  of  these 
springs.  Now  I  give  you  the  key.  The 
doll  has  commenced  your  reformation, 
but  every  evening  wind  her  up,  that  she 
may  recall  to  you  what  you  should  avoid 
in  future.  You  listened  to  her  rather 
than  to  me,  because  you  did  not  com- 
prehend the  mystery;  at  present  it 
is  nothing  more  than  play.  In  future, 
never  listen  to  any  advice  but  from  your 
mother.' 

"  The  mother  and  child  embraced  each 
other,  and  the  day  finished  joyfully." 

Miss  Onslow's  little  pupils  weiji 
delighted  with  this  story,  and  repaid  her 
for  the  trouble  she  had  taken  by  pro- 
mising to  try  and  profit  by  it. 


^— 


IT  was  Mrs.  Grenville's  turn  on 
this  evening  to  relate  some  story. 
She  had  lately  observed  in  her 
j3  little  daughter  a  disposition  to 
"put  off"  doing  anything  until 
some  other  time;  for  her  instruction, 
therefore,  as  well  as  of  others  who 
might  have  the  same  fault,  she  began  as 
follows : 

"  I  do  not  like  Charlotte  Morley,  be- 
cause she  tells  everything  she  hears," 
said  Josephine  Alton  to  her  governess. 
"I  should  be  sorry  to  resemble  her." 

"  That  is  a  very  great  fault  in  Char- 
lotte," replied  Miss  Rosalie,  "but before 
(65) 


66  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

you  judge  her  you  should  remember  that 
you  have  as  great  a  fault,  and — " 

"  And  pray  what  is  that  great  fault  ?" 
asked  Josephine  saucily,  "  I  suppose  you 
are  harping  on  the  old  tune  of  '  coming 
directly.'  " 

"'And  is  not  procrastination  a  great 
fault  ?  Do  you  not  lose  time  by  not 
doing  things  at  the  proper  moment  and 
subject  yourself  and  others  to  great  in- 
convenience ?  A  few  days  ago,  for  in- 
stance, your  mother  told  you  to  go  down 
to  the  parlor  and  tell  a  visitor  she  was 
too  much  indisposed  to  see  any  body, 
you  said,  '  directly,  mamma,'  but  did  not 
go  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  the  vis- 
itor had  gone  away  much  offended  that 
nobody  came  to  receive  her.' 

"  'But  I  had  forgotten  what  mamma 
said.' 

"  'Simply  because  you  did  not  go  at 


FOUltTH   EVENING.  t>7 

the  moment  she  told  you;  but  amused 
yourself  by  playing  on  the  staircase  with 
your  kitten.' 

"  '  Mamma,  however,  did  not  think 
that  such  a  great  fault ' 

"  '  Because  she  has  been  absent  from 
you  nearly  two  years,  and  does  not  know 
you  as  I  do ;  she  supposed  it  was  only 
from  the  thoughtlessness  of  a  child ;  but 
I  know,  from  sad  experience,  that  it  is 
a  pernicious  habit  you  have  contracted, 
and  which  I  have,  as  yet,  vainly  endeav- 
ored to  correct.  If  you  do  not  overcome 
this  fault,  believe  me,  it  will  finally  make 
both  yourself  and  others  miserable.' 

"  'Oh !  Miss  Rosalie,  you  are  certainly 
related  to  the  frog  family — for  you  are 
always  croaking;'  and  with  this  imper- 
tinent speech,  the  naughty  child  flounced 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Mrs.  Alton  had  but  recently  returned 


68  COTTAGE   EVENING  TALES. 

from  Italy,  whither  she  had  gone  with 
her  husband,  whose  declining  health 
rendered  such  a  change  necessary ;  but 
he  had  died  there,  and  she  had  come 
back,  in  sadness,  to  meet  her  orphan 
child,  whom  she  had  left  under  the  care 
of  her  venerable  grandfather  and  of  Miss 
Rosalie,  who  was  every  way  qualified  for 
the  important  task.  Josephine  had  fewer 
faults  than  most  children  of  her  age,  (she 
was  ten  years  old,)  but  a  tendency  to  put 
off  everything  she  was  told  to  do  had 
manifested  itself,  and  considering  the  ex- 
cellent management  of  her  governess,  it 
was  a  wonder  she  had  not  overcome  such 
a  fault.  When  the  hour  of  study  arrived, 
Miss  Rosalie  always  took  her  by  the 
hand,  and  led  her  to  the  school-room — 
If  they  were  going  to  walk  she  gave  her 
to  understand,  that  if  not  ready-dressed 
at  the  same  moment  with  herself,  she 


FOURTH   EVENING.  69 

must  remain  at  home  and  study  her  les- 
sons for  the  next  day ;  and  in  everything 
else  she  pursued,  the  same  method. — 
But  she  had  lately  discovered  that,  ow- 
ing to  the  extreme  fondness  of  Mr. 
Alton  for  his  grand-daughter,  he  only 
smiled  and  humored  her  when  she 
would  answer  *  directly,  grandpapa,' 
without  doing  what  was  required  of  her; 
and  she,  therefore,  resolved  to  acquaint 
Mrs.  Alton  with  this  growing  fault  in 
Josephine.  Mrs.  Alton  saw  the  necessi- 
ty of  co-operating  with  her  governess  in 
the  task  of  reforming  her  daughter,  and 
after  repeated  trials  to  convince  herself 
that  it  was  really  procrastination,  and 
not  mere  forgetfulness,  she  agreed  with 
Miss  Rosalie  as  to  the  plan  they  should 
pursue.  Old  Mr.  Alton  had  gone  to 
spend  a  few  months  with  an  aged  friend, 
and  they  took  advantage  of  his  absence. 


70  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

"  Mrs.  Alton  invited  Charlotte  to 
spend  the  clay,  whilst  Josephine  and  she 
were  playing  in  'the  garden.  Miss  Ro- 
salie called  the  former  to  come  immedi- 
ately to  her  mother,  who  wanted  her  for 
something  particular. 

"  'Directly,  Miss  Rosalie,'  she  replied, 
but  continued  playing  with  her  doll. 

"  Half  an  hour  afterwards,  Charlotte 
said  :  'are  you  not  going  to  your  mother  ? 
She  will  be  angry  at  your  staying  so 
long.  I  never  stop  a  moment  when 
mother  calls  me.' 

"  '  Oh !  mamma  never  expects  me 
to  come  in  an  instant ;  it  is  only  Miss 
Rosalie,  who  is  always  in  a  flurry.  I 
dare  say  I  am  not  wanted  for  anything 
so  very  particular — however,  I  will  go 
and  see.' 

"  She  soon  returned  pouting,  and  said, 
'  mother  had  wished  us  both  to  go  and 


FOURTH   EVENING.  71 

ride  in  an  omnibus  that  was  passing  by, 
but  as  we  did  not  come,  and  the  driver 
would  not  wait,  she  went  without  us.  I 
do  believe,'  she  continued,  'it  is  all 
owing  to  Miss  Rosalie,  who  had  hurried 
mamma  away  because  I  said  directly, 
and  did  not  come.  She  said  the  other 
day  I  would  sooner  or  later  be  punished 
for  saying  that  word  so  often  without 
putting  it  in  practice.  She  is  a  mean 
creature  to  make  mamma  go  without 
us.' 

"' "Well,' answered  Charlotte,  'I  am 
also  punished  by  it  for  I  have  lost  a 
pleasant  ride.  You  had  better  break 
yourself  of  that  bad  habit,  Josephine.' 

"  *  Mind  your  own  faults  and  do  not 
meddle  with  mine,'  said  Josephine  an- 
grily— «I  get  enough  schooling  from 
Miss  Rosalie.  I  wish  grandpapa  was  at 
home,  and  I  should  have  somebody  to 
take  my  part.' 


72  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

"  The  remainder  of  the  day  was  spent 
in  ill-humor  on  both  sides.  "When  Jo- 
sephine attempted  to  bring  on  a  conver- 
sation about  the  ride,  her  mother  answer- 
ed coldly,  'disobedience  and  idleness 
always  bring  their  punishment.' 

"  The  next  day  Miss  Rosalie  went  to 
see  Mrs.  Morley  on  business,  and  Char- 
lotte repeated  every  word  Josephine  had 
said  the  day  before,  adding,  that  procras- 
tination was  a  dreadful  defect. 

"Miss  Rosalie  said,  'I  am  surprised 
my  pupil  should  have  uttered  such  ex- 
pressions concerning  me,  and  I  am  still 
more  surprised,  Miss  Charlotte,  that  you 
should  take  pleasure  in  repeating  them. 
It  is  true  this  is  a  great  fault  in  our 
dear  Josephine,  but,  at  the  same  time, 
it  is  not  more  pernicious  than  that  of  re- 
peating everything  we  hear.' 
.  "'Come  here,  Josephine,'  said  Mrs. 


FOURTH    EVENING.  73 

Alton;  'your  governess  tells  me  you 
spoke  very  disrespectfully  and  unjustly 
of  her  to  Charlotte.  I  am  much  dis- 
pleased, for  I  have  always  impressed  on 
your  mind  the  necessity  of  treating  Miss 
Rosalie  with  as  much  respect  as  you 
would  your  mother.  I  have  said  you 
spoke  unjustly  of  her,  because  so  far 
from  influencing  me  regarding  the  ride, 
I  chose  to  punish  you,  and  I  saw  a  tear 
in  her  eye  at  your  being  thus  punished.' 

" '  But,  mamma,  Charlotte  need  not 
have  told  tales,  it  is  a  shocking  habit 
she  has.  I  forgot  it  when  1  spoke  before 
her.' 

" '  You  can  see  her  fault,  my  dear 
child,  but  you  do  not  see  your  own,  or 
if  you  are  sensible  of  it  you  let  it  pass 
without  condemnation.  Had  you  come 
to  me  the  moment  Miss  Rosalie  called 
you,  you  would  have  had  a  pleasant 


74  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

ride.  You  would  not  have  said  all  this  to 
Charlotte,  offending  your  excellent  in- 
structress and  friend — and  done  all  this 
by  saying  one  word  which  expressed  a 
falsehood.  Because  when  you  said,  I 
will  come  directly,  you  did  not  mean  to 
move,  nor  would  perhaps  have  come  at 
all  if  Charlotte  had  not  reminded  you 
of  it.  It  is  a  serious  thing  to  offend  our 
parents  or  friends,  but  do  you  not  think 
it  a  much  more  serious  thing  to  offend 
God  ?' 

"'Yes,  mamma;  but  in  what  have  I 
offended  God?  By  speaking  unjustly  of 
my  governess?' 

"  'God  has  appointed  a  time  for  every- 
thing ;  and,  therefore,  when  you  did  not 
obey  my  orders  you  did  not  fulfil  the 
commands  of  God,  who  requires  you  to 
obey  your  parents.  You  came,  it  is  true, 
but  it  was  not  at  the  time  He  had  ap- 


FOURTH    EVENING.  75 

pointed.  Then  by  using  that  word  you 
told  a  falsehood,  for  you  did  not  come 
ducctly.  You  were  unjust,  and  besides, 
deprived  your  companion  of  a  pleasure. 
So  you  have  lost  time*  and  have  disobe- 
dience, falsehood,  injustice  and  ill-humor 
to  accuse  yourself  of.' 

"  Josephine  acknowledged  her  faults, 
and  for  some  weeks  seemed  amended — 
but  it  required  severe  trials  to  cure  her 
really  and  forever. 

"One  morning  early  Mrs.  Alton  went 
to  spend  the  day  at  her  cousin's,  and 
told  Josephine  she  would  send  for  her 
during  the  day,  as  it  was  but  a  mile  and 
an  agreeable  walk.  Now  it  happened 
that  Josephine  did  not  particularly  like 
her  mother's  cousin,  and  would  rather 
have  stayed  at  home,  so  she  resolved 
not  to  hurry  when  she  was  sent  for. 
Josephine  had  forgotten  her  late  pro- 


76  COTTAtiE   EVENING   TALES. 

mises  of  obedience  and  resolutions  to  do 
every  thing  at  the  appointed  time;  and, 
therefore,  she  neglected  to  have  her  tasks 
completed  and  her  dress  arranged  at  the 
hour  specified  byfher  mother.  About 
three  hours  after  Mrs.  Alton's  departure 
a  man  on  horseback  rode  furiously  up  to 
the  door  and  told  Josephine  she  must 
set  out  instantly  for  Mrs.  Elwood's ; 
he  added,  '  hurry,  dear  Miss,  for  she  is 
much  hurt,'  and,  without  further  expla- 
nation, rode  off*  in  an  opposite  direction. 
"Josephine  did  not  pay  much  attention 
to  his  concluding  words,  supposing  they 
meant  that  Mrs.  Elwood  was  hurt  or  dis- 
pleased at  her  not  coming  with  her 
mother.  She,  therefore,  according  to  her 
old  habit,  loitered  for  an  hour,  and  even 
stopped  on  the  road  to  watch  butterflies 
and  grasshoppers.  When  she  arrived  at 
Mrs.  Ellwood's,  she  was  much  surprised 


FOURTH   EVENING.  77 

to  find  the  parlor  vacant,  and  no  appear- 
ance of  any  one  about  the  premises.— 
There  seemed  to  be  a  confusion  up- 
stairs, but  she  was  too  much  of  a  stranger 
to  go  up  unannounced.  At  that  mo- 
ment, Dr.  Denby  alighted  from  his 
carriage  and  went  up  the  staircase. — 
Poor  Josephine  began  to  feel  uneasy, 
and  tremblingly  followed  him ;  but  what 
a  sight  met  her  view — her  mother  was 
stretched  on  a  sofa,  apparently  dead. 

"  '  Oh  !  tell  me  what  has  happened,' 
she  exclaimed. 

"  '  Your  mother  was  thrown  from  the 
carriage,  has  been  insensible  ever  since, 
and  we  fear  will  never  recover,'  replied 
Mrs.  Elwood,  weeping. 

"The  doctor  ordered  every  one  to 
leave  the  room,  except  the  necessary 
attendants,  and  Mrs.  Elwood  drew  the 
poor  unhappy  child  from  the  distressing 


78   '  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

scene.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe 
the  grief  of  Josephine,  or  the  remorse 
she  felt  at  having  lingered  after  receiv- 
ing the  message.  It  was  some  time 
before  Mrs.  Elwood  understood  what 
had  caused  the  accident,  for  in  her  dis- 
tress she  had  not  particularly  inquired. 
But  when  at  last  Josephine  heard  that 
the  axle-tree  of  the  carriage  had  broken, 
she  exclaimed,  'I  have  killed  my  pre- 
cious mother!'  and  in  heart  rending 
tones,  she  related  the  following : 

"'Mamma  had,  early  this  morning, 
desired  me  to  tell  the  coachman  she  had 
observed  a  crack  in  the  axle-tree,  and  to 
send  her  word  if  he  thought  it  safe 
enough  to  go  as  far  as  Mrs.  Elwood's. 
I  answered,  *  directly,  mamma,'  and  left 
the  room  for  that  purpose ;  but  I  stopped 
in  the  -library  to  get  a  book  I  had  left 
there,  and  began  to  read  and  entirely 


FOURTH   EVENING.  79 

forgot  the  message.  I  suppose  mamma 
thought  I  had  executed  her  orders,  as 
the  carriage  was  brought  to  the  door, 
and  as  she  did'  not  ask  the  coachman 
anything  about  it,  I  never  thought 
about  it  either.  But  did  the  axle-tree 
really  break  ?'  she  inquired  eagerly,  c  or 
was  she  only  thrown  from  the  carriage 
by  the  horses  running  away  ?' 

" ;  The  axle-tree  broke  whilst  going 
down  the  hill,  and  the  horses  became 
frightened  and  upset  the  carriage, 
throwing  your  mother  against  the  stump 
of  a  tree.' 

"At  that  moment,  Mrs.  Elwood  was 
summoned  to  attend  the  doctor,  and 
Josephine  was  left  to  consider  the  con- 
sequence of  her  fault  of  procrastination. 
After  a  considerable  time,  which  was 
almost  insupportable  to  the  poor  child, 
Mrs.  Elwood  came  and  silently  conduct- 


80  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

ed  her  to  the  couch  of  her  mother,  who 
had  now  recovered  her  faculties,  but 
was  so  much  bruised  and  her  ankle 
sprained  besides,  that  she  would  be  for 
some  weeks  a  prisoner  in  that  chamber. 
The  doctor  pronounced  her  out  of  dan- 
ger, as  he  could  not  perceive  there  was 
any  internal  injury.  Josephine  fell  on 
her  knees  and  thanked  God  that  her 
parent  had  not  died  through  her  fault. 

"  '  Can  you  forgive  me,  dear  mother?' 
she  sobbed.  Her  mother  embraced  her 
but  was  not  able  to  speak. 

"Mrs.  Elwood  had  a  chapel  in  the 
house,  dedicated  to  the  Blessed  Mother 
of  God,  and  thither  Josephine  went,  and 
throwing  herself  before  a  beautiful  sta- 
tue of  the  Holy  Virgin,  she  prayed: — 

" '  Sweet  Mother  !  I  am  a  poor,  mise- 
rable child — I  have  nearly  caused  the 
death  of  my  parent  by  my  fault — have 


FOURTH   EVENING.  81 

compassion  on  me,  and  offer 'the  prayer 
I  am  about  to  make  to  thy  Beloved  Sou, 
my  Redeemer,  that  I  may  obtain  pardon, 
and  grace,  and  strength — never  again  to 
offend  wilfully  by  those  faults  which  I 
have  too  long  indulged.  Oh,  my  God ! 
Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  one  God ! 
have  mercy  on  me,  and  teach  me  how 
to  walk  in  thy  commandments.' 

"  Mrs.  Alton  recovered,  and  returned 
home  about  the  time  that  her  venerable 
father  did.  Josephine  related  all  that 
had  passed,  and  he  only  loved  her  the 
more,  now  that  she  had  no  faults — at 
least  they  were  triflng  ones,  for  she 
<•  never  relapsed  into  her  habit  of  pro- 
crastination, and  even  turned  pale  when 
she  heard  the  word  directly  uttered  by 
any  one.  She  was  soon  after  permitted 
to  make  her  first  communion,  and  be- 
came eminent  for  her  virtues,  and  devo- 


82  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

tion  to  the  Blessed  Virgin,  whose  name 
she  also  bore." 

"Now,  my  dear  little  friends,  I  hope 
that  any  of  you  who  are  subject  to  the 
fault  of  procrastination,  or  the  putting 
oft'  to  another  moment  what  should  be 
done  at  once,  will  take  warning  by  Jo- 
sephine, and,  like  her,  ask  for  grace  to 
amend  a  fault  which  will  certainly  make, 
not  only  yourself,  but  others  also — 
wretched  perhaps  for  life,  and  drive  you 
from  God." 


Industry  and  Obedience. 


o  gratify  those  among  the 
children  who  liked  long  sto- 
ries, Miss  Onslow,  on  this 
evening,  related  the  follow- 
ing :— 

"  The  evening  sun  had  just  cast  a  last 
golden  ray  on  the  surrounding  objects, 
as  Mrs.  Manners  and  her  son  entered  a 
romantic  pathway  leading  to  the  neigh- 
boring village.  Their  residence  was 
about  a  mile  distant,  and  they  had  only 
arrived  the  day  before,  having  been 
(83) 


84  COTTAGE   EVENING    TALES. 

traveling  for  more  than  a  year  on  ac- 
count of  the  health  of  her  aged  father, 
lie  had  departed  this  world  as  a  sincere 
follower  of  the  Cross,  about  a  month 
previous,  and  she  had  therefore  returned 
to  her  home,  sad  but  resigned. 

"  She  was  comparing  the  lingering 
beams  of  the  sun  to  the  dying  smiles  of 
her  venerated  and  Christian  parent, 
when,  as  they  passed  a  lonely  cottage  by 
the  wayside,  she  heard  sounds  of  lament- 
ation. She  paused,  uncertain  whether 
to  inquire  into  the  evident  distress  of 
the  inmate,  a  feeble  voice  exclaimed : 
'  Oh,  my  son !  where  art  thou  ?  Holy 
Mother,  protect  my  poor  boy!'  These 
words  decided  Mrs.  Manners,  and  she 
entered  the  cottage,  followed  by  Felix. 
A  few  kind  inquiries  soon  unfolded  the 
history  of  the  widow  who  inhabited  it. 

"Her  only  son,  who  was   the   only 


FIFTH   EVENING.  85 

solace  left  her  in  this  vale  of  tears,  and 
who  was  indeed  her  only  support,  had 
departed  early  in  the  morning  to  receive 
some  wages  due  to  him  from  a  farmer 
about  five  miles  distant ;  he  had  pro- 
mised to  return  in  time  to  partake  of 
their  scanty  dinner ;  it  was  now  nearly 
night  and  he  was  yet  absent.  She  said 
that  some  wicked  youths  of  the  village 
had  tried  to  corrupt  her  beloved  Felix, 
and  associate  him  in  their  iniquitous 
courses ;  but  he  feared  God,  and  loved 
his  mother,  and  she  had  never  known 
him  to  do  anything  that  could  cause 
remorse  or  grieve  her — that  his  love  for 
his  parent  was  only  surpassed  by  his  love 
for  God.  She  knew  that  there  was  a 
short  route  to  the  farmer's  over  a  dan- 
gerous and  unused  bridge,  though  per- 
sons on  foot  frequently  went  over  it  in 
safety ;  and  a  poor  idiot  boy  had  some 


86  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

hours  ago  entered  the  cottage,  and  whis- 
pered in  her  ear :  '  the  "bridge,  the  bridge, 
beware,  beware !  for  there  are  vultures 
waiting  there !  And,  madam,'  added 
she,  'I  fear  those  wicked  boys  have 
there  waylaid  my  child,  for  he  would 
never  have  stayed  this  long  without 
some  accident.' 

"Mr%.  Manners  said  she  would  in- 
stantly send  in  search  of  him,  and  dis- 
patched her  son  with  orders  to  the  stew- 
ard to  go  with  some  of  her  people  and 
make  every  possible  inquiry.  She  de- 
sired Felix  to  return  to  the  cottage 
after  he  had  given  his  message,  for  she 
intended  to  remain  with  the  widow,  who 
was  named  Mrs.  Truely. 

"A  strange  sympathy  drew  them  tow- 
ards each  other  ;  both  were  widows,  and 
their  sons  named  Felix ;  but  there  was 
a  difference  between  the  two  boys,  if 


FIFTH   EVENING.  87 

Felix  Truely  was  such  as  his  mother 
described  him.  Felix  Manners  was  in- 
telligent and  had  a  good  heart,  but  his 
better  qualities  were  obscured  by  idle- 
ness, selfishness,  disobedience  and  a  cul- 
pable neglect  of  his  religious  duties. 
Having  given  the  necessary  orders,  he 
returned.  He  felt  much  interested  iu 
the  widow  and  her  son,  and  had,  there- 
fore, no  inclination  to  disobey  his  mother. 
"A  footstep  was  soon  after  heard,  and 
Felix  Truely  rushed  into  his  mother's 
arms.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe 
her  joy  at  again  beholding  him.  He 
related  that  the  kind  farmer  had  begged 
him  to  execute  a  commission,  which  had 
detained  him  some  hours  longer  than 
he  had  anticipated,  and  had  given  him 
in  return  a  basket  of  cakes,  sweetmeats, 
and  other  varieties;  as  he  left  the  place 
the  idiot  boy  had  met  him  and  whis- 


88  COTTAGE   EVENING    TALES. 

pered,  *  The  bridge,  the  bridge  ! — be- 
ware, beware !'  that  knowing  the  affec- 
tion of  the  poor  unfortunate,  and  believ- 
ing some  danger  to  await  him  there,  he 
had  returned  by  the  longer  and  more 
frequented  route  through  the  village. 
As  he  concluded  his  narrative,  the  men 
who  had  gone  in  search  of  him  entered, 
leading  in  a  boy  whom  they  had  found 
in  the  garden  and  who  was. weeping  bit- 
terly. Felix  recognized  him  as  one  of 
those  who  had  endeavored  to  lure  him 
from  the  path  of  virtue,  and  he  asked 
him  why  he  wept.  The  boy  owned  that 
he  had  followed  him,  had  seen  the  farm- 
er give  him  the  basket,  and  had  deter- 
mined to  waylay  and  rob  him  of  it  at 
the  bridge,  which,  being  roofed  and 
covered  at  the  sides,  was  quite  dark  in 
many  places,  and  he  would  not  know 
who  stopped  him.  But  whilst  he  awaited 


FIFTH   EVENING.  89 

the  coming  of  Felix  at  the  entrance,  a 
horse  galloped  furiously  on  the  bridge, 
and,  dashing  against  him,  threw  him 
into  the  stream.  As  he  could  swim,  he 
found  his  way  to  the  opposite  bank  with 
some  difficulty  and  clambered  up  the 
side  of  it — but,  struck  with  his  punish- 
ment and  escape  from  death,  and  remorse 
for  the  crime  he  had  meditated,  he  re- 
solved to  come  to  the  cottage,  own  his 
wickedness,  and  resolving  never  again 
to  return  to  his  former  evil  ways,  he 
begged  forgiveness  and  their  advice  how 
to  do  better  in  the  future,  Mrs.  Man- 
ners gave  him  some  good  advice — told 
him  to  go  to  the  venerable  priest,  con- 
fess his  faults  with  contrition  and  a  firm 
purpose  of  amendment,  without  which 
it  would  avail  him  nothing,  and  be 
guided  by  him  in  his  future  course  of 
life ;  and  that  if  she  heard  of  his  per- 


90  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

severance  in  virtue,  she  would  put  him 
in  the  way  to  gain  an  honest  living;  for 
his  parents  were  very  poor,  and  she  was 
willing  to  assist  them. 

<; '  If  your  son  will  come  to  us,  Mrs. 
Truely,'  she  continued,  'we  will  give 
him  plenty  of  work,  and  he  shall  share 
in  the  instructions  which  I  give  to  my 
Felix.  You  will  be  glad  to  have  a  com- 
panion who%will  set  you  an  example  of 
industry  and  obedience,  my  dear  child,' 
continued  she,  addressing  her  son,  who 
hung  his  head,  because  he  too  well 
understood  her  meaning. 

"The  proposal  was  accepted  with 
gratitude  by  Mrs.  Truely,  and  Felix 
shed  tears  of  joy  at  the  idea  of  being 
instructed,  for  he  could  only  read  and 
write  passably,  and  his  stock  of  books 
was  very  limited. 

"  '  I  am  going  to  the  village,  where  I 


FIFTH   EVENING.  91 

shall  remain  several  hours,'  said  Mrs. 
Manners  one  morning  to  her  son,  'unless 
you  are  very  disobedient  you  will  not 
leave  the  house,  or  be  idle  during  my 
absence  ;  and  I  shall  expect  you  to  know 
your  lessons  perfectly  when  I  return. 
Felix  Truely  has  already  finished  his 
work  in  the  field,  and  he  will  studytwith 
you.' 

"Felix  Manners  sat  gazing  on  his 
books  for  half  an  hour,  then  rose  to 
leave  the  room. 

"  '  Where  are  you  going  ?  Do  you 
know  your  lessons  already?"  said  his 
companion. 

"  '  I  am  going  to  play  with  Pompey, 
and  get  some  peaches;  I  will  be  back 
presently.' 

"  'But  your  mother  said  we  must  not* 
leave  the  house — pray  do  not  go ;'  but 
Felix  was  already  out  of  hearing. 


92  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

"Young  Truely  was  so  busy  at  his 
tasks  that  he  was  surprised  on  looking 
at  the  clock  to  find  that  his  friend  had 
been  absent  two  hours.  As  he  rose  to 
go  in  search  of  him  a  scream  from  the 
garden  smote  his  ear.  He  flew  to  the 
spot,  and  saw  Felix  struggling  with  a 
larga  ape,  which  held  him  by  the  throat. 
He  struck  it  with  a  spade,  and  the  ani- 
mal escaped,  bearing  oft*  the  basket  of 
peaches,  with  which  the  truant  had  in- 
tended to  regale  himself.  As  soon  as 
the  latter  had  recovered  from  his  fright, 
his  friend  advised  him  to  resume  his 
studies  as  his  mother  would  soon  return, 
and  would  be  grieved  to  find  he  had 
been  so  idle.  'But  how  did  this  hap- 
pen ?'  continued  he. 

"'Why  I  heard  a  great  chattering 
outside  the  garden" wall,  and  opened  the 
gate  to  see  who  it  -could  be,  when  this 


FIFTII    EVENING.  93 

horrible  monkey  flew  at  my  basket  of 
peaches.  I  would  not  let  go— so  it  flew 
at  my  throat,  I  feel  its  claws  yet.  If 
Pompey  had  boeji  here  he  would  have 
bit  him  finely.' 

"'AVell,'  replied  the  other,  'you  «ee, 
my  dear  Felix,  that  we  are  always  pun- 
ished in  some  way  for  our  faults.  If  you 
had  not  disobeyed  your  mother  by  going 
into  the  garden,  hut  had  studied  your 
lesson,  this  would  not  have  happened. 
The  animal  might  have  strangled  you 
had  not  God  sent  me  to  your  assistance. 
But  come,  I  know  my  lessons  and  will 
help  you  to  get  yours.  It  would  grieve 
me  to  see  my  benefactress  displeased 
with  you,  and  I  trust  you  will  not  again 
act  so  thoughtlessly.' 

"Felix  was  very  fond  of  his  friend 
and  took  this  admonition  in  good  parr. 
The  lessons  were  just  completed  as  Mrs. 
Manners  entered  the  room. 


94  COTTAGE.  EVENING   TALES. 

"'I  see  you  have  not  been  idle  to- 
day," said  she,  after  Felix  had  recited 
his  different  tasks. 

"He  blushed  and  looked  confused, 
but  as  she  did  not  observe  it,  he  had 
not  moral  courage  or  honesty  enough  to 
tell  the  truth  or  give  the  praise  where 
it  was  due. 

"  One  day  Felix  Manners  said  to  his 
companion:  'I  shall  be  ten  years  old  on 
St.  Felix's  day,  and  mother  has  promised 
to  give  me  a  feast.  "We  are  to  write 
compositions  on  the  virtues  of  our  patron 
saint,  and  the  best  one  will  obtain  a 
prize;  she  will  not  tell  me  what  the 
prize  is  to  be,  but  I  know  it  will  be 
something  worth  having ;  so  mind,  I  shall 
try  hard  to  win  it.' 

"  '  I  hope  most  sincerely  you  may 
obtain  it — and  you  certainly  will,  for 
you  know  I  shall  be  a  very  poor  rival.' 


FIFTH   EVENING.  95 

Felix  Truely  would  not  be  half  so  much 
satisfied  to  win  it  himself,  for  he  had  no 
selfishness,  and  rejoiced  at  everything 
that  exalted  the '  character  of  the  son  of 
his  benefactress. 

"The  day  arrived  and  a  large  party 
assembled  at  Mrs.  Manners'  house — 
amongst  whom  was  Mrs.  Truely.  After 
partaking  of  refreshments  the  two  boys 
recited  their  compositions,  and  Felix 
Manners  obtained  the  prize.  An  in- 
terior voice  whispered  that  he  had  no 
right  to  it,  but  as  nobody  knew  so  but 
himself,  save  one,  his  selfishness  got  the 
better,  and  he  received  the  congratula- 
tions of  those  around  him.  His  mother 
told  him  his  prize  waited  at  the  door, 
and  he  found  a  beautiful  pony,  the 
smallest  ever  seen  in  that  neighborhood, 
ready  saddled.  His  friend  followed  to 
help  him  to  mount,  but  Felix  could  not 


96  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

speak,  for  he  was  ashamed  of  his  own 
meanness,  which  we  shall  learn  pres- 
ently. After  dinner  another  smaller 
prize  was  to  be  given  for  the  best  com- 
position on  any  chosen  subject.  That 
of  Felix  Manners  was  a  very  common- 
place essay  on  the  beauties  of  Spring ; 
but  his  companion  delivered  an  elo- 
quent discourse  on  Gratitude,  in  which 
he  painted  the  truly  Christian  character 
of  his  benefactress  in  glowing  colors. 
The  judge  awarded  him  the  prize,  which 
was  a  splendidly  bound  copy  of  the  Lives 
of  the  Saints.  For  a  moment  there  was 
a  profound  silence,  and  Felix  Manners 
stood  before  his  mother  blushing  and  in 
tears. 

"'Pardon  me,'  said  he,  'for  having 
received  what  was  not  justly  mine.  We 
showed  our  compositions  to  our  llev_ 
erend  Pastor,  and  he,  without  knowing 


FIFTH   EVENING.  97 

who  wrote  it,  pronounced  my  friend's 
decidedly  the  best.  I  knew  he  was  a 
good  judge,  and  I  was  so  disturbed  at 
the  idea  of  not  succeeding,  that  Felix 
Truely  offered  me  his,  if  I  thought  it 
would  obtain  the  preference.  He  said 
he  would  not  recite  his,  if  he  supposed 
it  could  win  the  premium  from  his  dear 
Felix.  I  was  mean  and  selfish  enough  to 
accept  it ;  the  pony  is  therefore  his, 
and  his  generosity  and  friendship  have 
opened  my  eyes  to  those  faults  by  which 
I  have  so  often  offended  God,  and  grieved 
the  best  of  mothers.' 

"  Mrs.  Manners  embraced  her  son,  and 
thanked  God  for  having  touched  the 
heart  of  her  beloved  one,  and  a  pressure 
of  the  hand  told  her  gratitude  to  Felix 
Truely. 

"But  a  terrible  storm  was  ready  to 
burst  over  the  head  of  the  latter ;  show- 


98  COTTAGE    EVENING    TALES. 

ing  that  our  life  shall  not  always  be  sun- 
shine, 'for  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he 
chastiseth,  and  scourgeth  every  son 
whom  he  receiveth.'  The  overseer  of 
the  farm  disliked  Felix  because  he  could 
not  corrupt  him,  for  he  was  an  unfaith- 
ful servant,  though  Mrs.  Manners  had 
always  placed  confidence  in  him,  and 
therefore  put  the  poor  boy  under  his 
charge.  When  the  grain  was  gathered 
in  at  the  harvest,  the  overseer  scored 
down  the  number  of  bushels,  and  when 
it  was  afterwards  sold,  Felix  did  so,  by 
his  orders ;  there  were  a  hundred  bushels 
less  than  the  first  count. 

"'How  is  this,  Felix?'  said  he,  'you 
have  either  miscounted  the  quantity  or 
you  have  stolen  a  hundred  bushels.  I 
shall  inform  Mrs.  Manners  of  the  hypo- 
crite who  thus  abuses  her  goodness,  for 
many  persons  saw  the  grain  first  mea- 


FIFTH   EVENING.  99 

sured,  and  I  have  observed  you  fre- 
quently carrying  away  bundles.' 

"  It  was  in  vain  for  Felix  to  protest 
his  innocence ;  the  overseer  was  deter- 
mined to  ruin  him,  and  thus  get  quit  of 
one  whom  he  feared  would  sooner  or 
later  witness  against  him. 

"  Mrs.  Manners  had  some  months  be- 
fore lost  a  diamond  breastpin,  and  as 
she  had  no  reason  to  suspect  any  one 
about  the  house  of  stealing  it,  supposed 
she  hud  lost  it  while  walking.  Felix 
was  summoned  before  her  to  answer  the 
accusation  of  his  enemy,  who  stated 
that  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  his 
guilt,  as  he  had  found  a  small  sack  with 
Mrs.  Truely's  name  on  it,  behind  his 
trunk,  containing  the  refuse  of  wheat ; 
and  that  his  wife  had  also  found  the  dia- 
mond pin  in  his  waistcoat  while  wash- 
ins:  it. 


100  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

"  Felix  Truely  went  up  to  Mrs.  Man- 
ners and  said :  '  It  is  in  vain  for  me  to 
assert  my  innocence ;  I  leave  my  cause 
in  the  Lands  of  God ;  I  have  never  wil- 
fully offended  him,  and  he  will  one  day 
show  forth  who  is  the  guilty  one.  Do 
with  me  what  you  please ;  I  only  grieve 
for  my  poor  mother,  whose  heart  will 
be  broken  at  the  thought  of  her  son 
being  called  a  criminal — for  she  will 
never  believe  me  guilty  of  robbing  my 
benefactress.  May  God  comfort  my 
poor  parent  in  the  bitter  hour  of  trial.' 

"  He  stood  calm  and  dignified.  Mrs. 
Manners  burst  into  tears — told  him  to 
return  to  his  mother — that  she  could 
not  resolve  to  bring  him  to  justice — 
besought  him  to  repent  ere  it  was  too 
late,  and  begged  him  to  go  at  once,  for 
she  had  truly  loved  him. 

"  The  overseer  remarked  that  it  was 


FIFTH    EVENING.  101 

not  very  prudent  to  let  such  a  delin- 
quent go  unpunished. 

"  'It  is  my  intention  to  give  him  time 
to  repent,'  said  she,  'on  account  of  his 
youth ;  and  I  can  yet  hardly  understand 
how  one  who  had  never  before  given 
me  any  reason  to  think  evil  of  him, 
should  thus,  all  at  once,  fall.' 

"The  man  muttered  something  about 
hypocrites,  but  she  remained  firm  to  her 

decision.     Felix  Manners  looked  first  at 
I 

his  poor  friend  and  then  at  his  accuser, 
and  the  malicious  exultation  of  the  lat- 
ter was  not  lost  upon  him. 

"It  was  a  sad  meeting  that  night 
between  the  poor  mother  and  son.  '  I 
know  you  are  not  guilty,  my  clear  child, 
and  we  must  bow  with  resignation  to 
the  will  of  God,'  said  Mrs.  Truely;  and 
Felix  took  his  crucifix  and  prayed,  '  Oh, 
my  beloved  Redeemer !  strengthen  thy 


102  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

poor  cliild  and  enable  him  to  bear  igno- 
miny for  the  love  of  Thee  !' 

"After  the  departure  of  the  poor  boy 
Felix  Manners  became  sad  and  solitary ; 
He  did  not  believe  him  guilty,  for  how 
could  a  mere  child  carry  away  a  hun- 
dred bushels  of  wheat  iu  a  small  sack; 
more  particularly  as  his  mother  always 
kept  the  key  of  the  granary,  and  Felix 
had  never  been  entrusted  with  it,  nor 
had  she  ever  missed  it  from  her  bunch 
of  keys.  Felix  also  had  an  indistinct 
remembrance  that  on  the  day  his  mother 
had  missed  the  breastpin  he  had  seen, 
confusion  in  the  manner  of  the  overseer's 
daughter,  (who  was  chambermaid,)  when, 
he  came  suddenly  into  his  mother's  room, 
and  he  felt  convinced  that  his  poor  friend 
was  the  victim  of  a  vile  plot,  which  ho 
was  determined  to  unfold,  if  possible. 

"  The  overseer  spread  the  story  about, 


FIFTH   EVENING.  103 

and  Felix  Truely  could  get  no  employ- 
ment. George  Ellis,  (the  boy  who  had  in- 
tended to  rob  him  at  the  bridge,)  came 
and  offered  to  share  his  fortunes  with 
him.  He  had  indeed  reformed,  and  Mrs. 
Manners  had  secured  him  plenty  of  work, 
and  the  esteem  of  those  who  'had  for- 
merly despised  him.  But  Felix  would 
not  deprive  him  of  his  earnings,  if  he 
could  earn  bread  for  his  poor  parent  he 
cared  not  for  himself;  yet  though  George 
could  not  get  him  to  accept  anything  for 
himself,  he  could  not  prevent  him  from 
privately  placing  baskets  of  provisions 
in  the  cottage  window,  for  the  repentant 
boy  was  anxious  to  repair  his  former 
faults  towards  Felix. 

One  evening  as  Felix  Manners  was 
walking  in  one  of  his  mother's  fields,  a 
paper  lying  in  the  long  grass  caught  his 
eye,  he  carelessly  picked  it  up,  and  found 


104  COTTAGE   EVENING  TALES. 

it  to  be  a  letter  addressed  to  the  wife  of 
the  overseer,  and  he  recognized  his 
handwriting.  He  had  gone  to  a  distant 
city  some  days  before  on  urgent  busi- 
ness. As  Felix  held  the  letter  unde- 
cided what  to  do  with  it,  the  words  Felix 
and  wheat  caught  his  attention,  (for  the 
letter  was  open,)  and  at  that  moment 
the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed 
came  running  in  great  agitation,  and 
seeing  the  fatal  letter  open  in  his  hand, 
exclaimed,  'Have  you  dared  to  read  my 
letter?' 

"  '1  have  not  read  it — but  you  forget 
to  whom  you  are  speaking.' 

"  '  Give  it  to  me,  or  I  will  make  you.' 
"  'I  shall  not,'  said  Felix,  quietly;  for 
he  saw  that  it  contained  something  re- 
lating to  the  late  affair.  She  darted  at 
him  with  furious  looks,  but  he  flew 
away  like  a  lapwing,  and  stopped  not 


FIFTH   EVENING.  105 

until  he  found  himself  at  his  mother's 
side.  lie  told  his  story,  and  Mrs.  Man- 
ners felt  justified  in  seeing  the  contents 
of  the  letter  and  sent  for  witnesses  to 
approve  her  conduct.  It  was  as  follows: 
liiDear  Wife: — I  have  sold  the  hun- 
dred bushels  of  wheat  at  a  great  profit, 
and  shall  bring  home  a  nice  sum,  and 
we  can  then  buy  the  carriage  you  want 
so  much.  I  have  besides  got  a  good 
bargain  for  the  ox  that  we  made  the 
mistress  believe  was  dead — and  but  for 
that  pest,  Felix,  I  could  have  sold  the 
breastpin  for  nearly  its  value;  but  you 
know  I  had  to  give  it  up  in  order  to 
criminate  that  miserable  ploughboy,  who 
wanted  to  be  a  gentleman  over  his  bet- 
ters. I  shall  be  home  in  two  days,  and 
in  the  meantime  you  must  spread  about 
that  you  have  received  a  legacy.  Burn 
this,  &c.' 


106  COTTAGE    EVENING   TALES. 

"  '  Dear  Felix  !'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Man- 
ners, 'how  have  we  wronged  you — let 
us  hasten  to  repair  the  injurious  treat- 
ment he  has  received  from  us.' 

"Before  the  overseer  could  be  in- 
formed by  his  wife,  he  was  arrested  and 
placed  in  the  county  jail  to  await  his 
trial.  Mrs.  Manners  proceeded  to  the 
cottage,  asked  pardon  for  her  great  in- 
justice ;  took  the  mother  and  son  home, 
and  adopted  them  both  into  her  house 
and  heart. 

"It  was  again  St.  Felix's  day,  and  the 
two  youths  knelt  at  the  altar  to  receive, 
for  the  first  time,  the  Bread  of  Life. 
Who  can  paint  the  transports  of  those 
souls  with  whom  the  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth  deigns  to  come  and  take  up  his 
abode  ?  *  I  have  found  my  Beloved — I 
hold  him,  and  will  not  let  him  go  until 
he  shall  bless  me.' 


FIFTH   EVENING.  107 

"Happiness  beamed  in  the  facea  of 
those  two  boys;  their  secret  prayers  and 
the  pure  offerings  of  their  hearts  were 
registered  on  high.  George  Ellis,  too, 
was  there,  and  was  received  into  the 
bosom  of  that  Church  from  which  he 
had  so  long  strayed.  He  was  employed 
by  Mrs.  Manners  and  afterwards  became 
her  steward,  which  office  he  filled  with 
capability  and  faithfulness. 

"  Fifteen  years  had  passed,  and  two 
priests  were  seen  one  day  kneeling 
before  two  graves  in  the  village  ceme- 
tery, absorbed  in  prayer.  They  rose 
and  pursued  their  way  through  the  ro- 
mantic pathway,  before  spoken  of,  and 
paused  before  the  ruins  of  a  cottage. 

"  *  Blessed  be  the  memory  of  my  de- 
parted mother!'  exclaimed  the  elder; 
'  for  by  her  piety  and  prayers  God  pre- 
served me  from  the  snares  of  the  enemy. 


108  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

You  remember  the  prayer  we  offered  on 
the  day  of  our  first  communion,'  said 
lie,  addressing  his  companion. 

"'Yes,  my  brother,'  was  the  reply; 
1  and  God  has  indeed  heard  those  pray- 
ers, since  it  has  pleased  him  to  call  us 
to  consecrate  ourselves  to  his  service. 
To-morrow  is  our  Annual  Festival,  and 
what  happiness  will  be  ours  to  officiate 
at  that  altar  where  we  'first  ofiered  our- 
selves to  God.' 

"You  will  easily  perceive,  my  dear 
children,  that  these  two  servants  of  God 
were  Felix  Manners  and  Felix  Truely. 
They  never  came  again — but  for  many 
years  St.  Felix's  day  was  a  day  of  re- 
joicing amongst  the  youth  of  the  village. 


-^5o> 

Good  and  Bad  Example. 

CG)V- 

i  3"*^) 

•r  N  what  subject  are  you  all 
f  discoursing  so  earnestly?'' 
>y$  asked  Miss  Onslow,  as  she 
entered  the  room  where  her 
pupils  were  assembled. 

'We  are  speaking  of  good 
and  bad  example,"  replied  one  of  the 
oldest  girls;  "and  Ann  Darby  has  just 
said  that  it  only  applies  to  grown  per- 
sons, for  nobody  takes  notice  of  the 
example  of  children.  I  was  going  to 
show  her  she  is  wrong,  by  relating  that, 
yesterday  mamma  desired  me  not  to  go 

into  the  garden  while  the  grass  was  wet, 
(109) 


110  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

but  I  paid  no  attention  to  her  orders 
and  went.  Mamma  was  much  displeased 
with  me,  not  only  because  I  had  dis- 
obeyed her,  but  because  my  little  brother 
followed  my  example  and  is  sick  to-day 
in  consequence.  !N"ow,  did  not  that  ex- 
ample cause  my  brother  to  be  disobe- 
dient and  to  sufi'er  also  besides?" 

"But" your  brother  did  not  know  you. 
were  forbidden  to  go,  and  therefore  was 
not  disobedient,"  persisted  Ann. 

"Yes,  he  did  know  it,  and  thought 
mamma  quite  unkind  to  keep  us  in  the 
house.  But  even  had  he  not  known  it, 
though  he  would  not  have  been  disobe- 
dient, yet  my  example  caused  him  a  sick- 
ness he  might  not  otherwise  have  had. 
Am  I  not  right?"  continued  she,  turn- 
ing to  her  teacher. 

"  Certainly,  my  love,"  you  were  the 
cause  of  both ;  but  as  you  have  had  the 
courage  openly  to  speak  of  your  fault, 


SIXTH   EVENING.  Ill 

by  which,  you  not  only  displeased  your 
mamma  but  offended  God,  I  trust»you 
will  never  again  commit  it.  When 
children  have  arrived  at  the  age  of  rea- 
son, that  is,  when  they  are  old  enough 
to  know  right  from  wrong,  then  they 
become  bound  to  set  a  good  example. 
I  remember  that  when  I  was  a  child, 
my  mother  one  morning  desired  me  to 
return  home  immediately  after  Bchool. 
I  promised,  but  seeing  some  pretty  but- 
terflies in  a  field  near  the  school,  I  asked 
one  of  my  companions  to  stay  and  help 
me  catch  them.  She  said  that  her  sister 
did  not  seem  quite  well  when  she  left 
home  and  she  was  required  to  hasten 
back.  I  replied  that  it  would  only  be  a 
few  minutes  more,  and  so  insisted  that 
at  last  she  complied.  We  spent  more 
than  two  hours  and  caught  one  poor 
butterfly.  "When  I  returned  home  my 
mother  pointed  out  the  faults  I  had  com- 


112  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

mitted   through  disobedience   and  "bad 

C-> 

example.  But  tbis  was  not  all.  My 
companion  found  her  sister  very  ill — 
there  had  been  nobody  to  go  for  the 
physician  during  her  absence,  and,  in 
consequence,  the  child  had  a  painful 
and  protracted  illness,  from  which  she 
never  entirely  recovered  —  so  my  bad 
example  produced  a  sad  result  that  I 
had  not  anticipated  and  which  I  have 
never  forgotten  or  ceased  to  lament." 

The  teacher  paused  in  great  emotion. 
After  awhile  she  continued :  "  I  will 
relate  the  history  of  a  little  girl,  which 
will  prove  to  you  the  importance  of 
example  at  every  age  :" 

"  Susan  was  the  daughter  of  Martin, 
a  poor  laborer,  who  worked  very  indus- 
triously to  support  his  family,  and  lived 
as  a  pious  and  sincere  Christian.  His 
wife,  who  was  named  Catharine,  fol- 
lowed his  bright  example,  and  taught 


SIXTH    EVENING.  113 

her  children  to  love  God  from  their 
earliest  years.  At  the  time  my  story 
begins  they  had  seen  all  their  loved  o'nes 
die,  except  Susan,  who  was  remarkable 
for  her  piety.  At  four  years  old  she 
might  be  seen  in  the  church  with  her 
little  hands  clasped  together,  her  eyes 
fixed  on  ^the  Crucifix  or  on  a  statue  of 
the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  not  a  sound  or 
movement  on  her  part  disturbed  the 
attention  of  those  who  were  there  assem- 
bled. Such,  my  dear  children,  should 
be  the  conduct  of  all,  both  old  and 
young,  who  enter  the  Holy  Temple  of 
God.  Even  at  that  tender  age  she  was 
the  means  of  converting  a  young  wo- 
man, who  sometimes  went  to  that  church, 
but  whose  attention  was  always  taken 
up  with  gazing  at  those  who  entered,  or 
in  whispering  to  some  companion  as 
irreverent  as  herself;  who  never  knelt 
devoutly  during  the  August  Sacrifice  of 


114  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

the  Mass,  when  our  Divine  Redeemer 
is  present  on  the  altar,  at  the  words  pro- 
nounced by  the  priests  to  whom  He  has 
given  this  power;  whose  conduct,  in 
short,  was  so  offensive  to  God  and  so 
greatly  annoyed  those  who  came  there 
really  to  pray,  that  Susan,  being  one 
day  placed  near  her,  looked  in  her  face, 
with  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  and 
whispered,  "  God  is  looking  at  us — do 
not  make  Him  angry."  When  they  left 
the  church  that  young  woman  followed 
and  asked  her  to  pray  for  her.  The 
prayers  and  beautiful  example  of  the 
child  converted  her,  as  she  has  often 
since  assured  me,  and  she  afterwards 
became  as  remarkable  for  her  piety  as 
she  had  before  been  the  contrary. 

"  Susan  was  about  twelve  years  old 
when  Martin  received  a  letter  from  his 
brother's  daughter,  informing  him  of  the 
death  of  her  father,  and  begging  him  to 


SIXTH   EVENING.  115 

receive  her,  as  she  was  left  entirely  des- 
titute. He  sent  for  and  received  her 
with  affection.  She  was  ten  years  old ; 
had  been  brought  up  in  idleness,  and 
knew  little  or  nothing.  She  was  very 
careless  about  her  religious  duties,  and 
never  said  her  prayers  or  even  desired 
to  attend  Mass. 

"'I  cannot  understand  how  you  can 
be  happy  when  you  do  not  say  your 
prayers,  or  do  anything  that  the  church 
requires,'  said  Susan  to  her  one  day. 

"  '  Oh  !  my  father  did  not  bother  him- 
self about  such  things,'  she  replied,  '  and 
never  taught  me  any  such  practices — we 
had  plenty  whilst  we  lived,  and  what 
more  is  necessary  in  this  world  ?  I  shall 
soon  be  able  to  get  enough  without  my 
uncle's  help,  or  having  to  live  so  very 
saint-like.'  So  saying  with  a  sneer  she 
left  the  good  Susan.  How  many  are 
like  poor  Rose,  thinking  of  nothing  but 


116  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

what  they  can  gain  in  this  world,  with- 
out remembering  that  God  will  require 
something  of  them — for  the  things 
gained  in  this  world  alone  are  only  for 
his  enemy. 

"  Susan  was  much  grieved  to  see  Rose 
so  careless  of  her  salvation,  and  begged 
her  to  pause  and  reflect,  and  her  uncle 
and  aunt  used  every  means  to  bring  her 
to  a  sense  of  her  duty,  but  in  vain. 

"  One  day  Susan 'requested  her  to  assist 
in  finishing  some  plain  sewing  which 
she  had  promised  to  take  home  the  next 
morning.  Kose  refused,  became  very 
angry,  and  used  injurious  words.  The 
pious  girl  made  no  reply,  and,  after  say- 
ing her  prayers,  sat  up  nearly  all  night 
to  complete  her  task.  At  an  early  hour 
she  went  to  Mass,  and  then  proceeded 
to  the  house  of  the  lady — delivered 
her  work,  and  received  payment.  As 
she  returned  home  she  met  Rose,  who 


SIXTH   EVENING.  117 

seemed  confused,  and  made  some  tri- 
fling excuse  to  leave  her.  "Whilst  she 
was  preparing  the  breakfast,  two  men 
entered,  and  inquired  for  her  cou- 
sin. They  were  yet  speaking  when 
Rose  entered  by  the  back  door,  and  see- 
ing them  would  have  fled.  They  pro- 
duced a  warrant  accusing  her  of  stealing 
some  valuable  lace  from  a  shop,  and  in 
spite  of  her  denial  and  tears,  she  was 
taken  to  jail. 

"  Susan  received  permission  to  visit 
her ;  she  consoled  her,  wept  with  her, 
and  prayed  for  her,  and  talked  so  beau- 
tifully of  the  danger  she  was  in  of  losing 
her  soul,  and  of  being  confined  eternally 
to  a  prison  far  more  horrible  than  that 
she  was  now  condemned  to,  and  of  the 
bliss  of  heaven  reserved  for  those  that 
serve  God,  that  at  last  the  hitherto  ob- 
durate and  impenitent  girl  knelt  and 
prayed  for  pardon  for  her  sins.  She  was 


118  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

at  length,  released  and  returned  -to  her 
uncle's  house.  She  fell  into  many  of 
her  former  faults,  but  the  untiring 
charity,  patience,  piety,  and  constant 
good  example  of  Susan  were  finally  re- 
warded by  her  amendment,  and  she 
learned  to  know,  love  and  serve  God. 

"  Soon  afterwards  Susan  fell  into  an 
alarming  illness,  from  which,  she  never 
recovered.  She  called  Rose  to  her,  and 
begged  her  to  supply  her  place  towards 
her  parents.  The  reformed  girl  pro- 
mised and  kept  her  word ;  and  blessed 
her  dying  cousin  for  the  good  example 
she  had  set  her  and  which  had  saved 
her.  She  afterwards,  by  her  good  con- 
duct, reclaimed  a  young  girl  who  had  be- 
come quite  wicked  by  listening  to  her  bad 
advice  and  following  her  evil  example." 

"Will  you  now  say,  my  dear  child- 
ren, that  the  good  or  bad  example  of 
children  is  of  no  importance  ?" 


SIXTH   EVENING.  119 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  Ann;  "and  I 
will  endeavor  to  imitate  Susan." 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Grenville  ap- 
peared. She  was  eagerly  welcomed  by 
the  children,  to  whom  she  had  promised 
to  relate  a  story  on  devotion  to  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  as  a  fitting  close  to  the 
last  of  the  "  Cottage  Evenings."  The 
story  was  as  follows : 

"In  a  small  village,  beautfully  ijitiiated 
on  the  banks  of  a  river,  one  cottage  might 
be  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  its  air 
of  neatness,  the  roses  that  clustered  over 
its  porch,  and  the  little  garden  attached 
to  it.  It  was  inhabited  by  old  Nannie 
Dale  and  her  grand-daughter  Mary.  The 
latter  was  about  twelve  years  of  age  and 
a  model  of  filial  piety.  She  attended  to 
the  slightest  wants  of  her  aged  and  in- 
firm relative,  kept  the  cottage  so  clean, 
the  little  garden  so  full  of  sweet  flowers 
and  clear  of  weeds,  and  was  always  so 


120  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

early  at  church  that  she  was  called  'the 
pride  of  the  village' — a  name  which 
alarmed  her  humility.  She  was  as  mo- 
dest and  retiring  as  the  violet,  and  so 
full  of  benevolence,  that  she  shared  her 
scanty  meals  with  those  less  fortunate 
than  herself.  Her  sister  Josephine  (some 
years  older)  lived  with  a  lady  in  the 
neighborhood,  in  the  capacity  of  lady's 
maid.  She  was  as  remarkable  for  her 
want  of  piety  and  humility  as  Mary  was 
for  both.  The  only  thing  she  had  not 
discarded  was  a  medal  of  our  Lady,  which 
she  had  promised  her  dying  mother  al- 
ways to  wear,  and  to  recite  the  prayer  on 
it — which  promise  she  kept.  She  seldom 
saw  Mary,  for  she  feared  her  gentle  re- 
proofs. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  village  girls 
to  crown  a  queen,  chosen  by  lot,  on  the 
first  day  of  every  May.  They  assembled 
for  this  purpose  in  the  park  of  Mr.  Good- 
all,  who  loved  to  witness  their  innocent 
festivity,  and  who  also  provided  a  suit- 
able entertainment,  laid  out  under  the 
magnificent  oak  trees,  which  had  dour- 


SIXTH   EVENING.  121 

ished  there  for  a  century.  A  beautiful 
temple  Lad  also  been  erected  by  him  and 
dedicated  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary ; 
it  was  adorned  by  a  marble  statue,  as 
large  as  life,  of  our  Holy  Mother.  It 
was  there  they  crowned  the  queen  elect, 
who  was  required  at  the  same  time  to 
select  one  of  the  favorite  virtues  of  the 
Holy  Queen  under  whose  auspices  she 
was  crowned,  to  practice  during  the 
year,  and  at  the.  succeeding  annual  fes- 
tival to  give  an  account  of  her  observ- 
ance of  it,  and  if  she  had  failed  slje  was 
never  re-elected.  This  rule  was  produc- 
tive of  much  good,  for  she  who  was 
considered  as  too  bad  to  be  nominated 
a  second  time,  was  in  a  manner  under 
disgrace. 

"  *  Who  do  you  think  will  be  Queen  ?' 
said  Ellen  Parr  to  Mary,  as  they  sat 
together  at  the  cottage  window  on  the 
eve  of  May. 

"  'I  know  whom  I  would  choose,'  she 
replied,  '  but  grandmamma  is  so  feeble 
that  I  do  not  think  I  shall  be  there.' 

"  The  morn  had  scarcely  smiled  in  the 


122  COTTAGE   EVENING  TALES. 

east,  when  groups  of  joyous  girls  had 
assembled  in  the  park;  their  white 
dresses  and  ribbons  formed  a  pretty  con- 
trast to  the  dark  trees,  hung  with  fes- 
toons of  roses.  The  Ave  Maria  ascended 
in  melodious  accents,  but  all  missed  the 
sweet  accents  of  Mary;  she  was  yet 
absent.  They  next  proceeded  to  nomi- 
nate the  Queen,  and,  by  a  vote  almost 
unanimous,  Mary  was  elected.  They  sent 
to  tell  her,  and  she  came,  but  in  sadness, 
for  her  grandparent  was  rapidly  declin- 
ing; but,  in  obedience  to  her  wishes, 
she  left  her  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Parr. 

" '  Oh,  Mary !'  said  Ellen,  running  to 
meet  her,  'I  am  so  glad  that  you  are 
Queen ;  come,  we  are  waiting  to  .crown 
you.' 

"  Mary  knelt,  and  a  beautiful  wreath 
of  white  roses  and  lily  of  the  valley 
was  placed  on  her  her  head  by  Ellen, 
who  said,  *  these  blossoms  will  soon  fade, 
but  our  love  for  our  May  Queen,  never.' 

"The  Queen  arose,  and  whilst  tears 
of  mingled  emotions  coursed  down  her 
cheeks,  she  replied,  'I  thank  you,  my 


SIXTH   EVENING."  "123 

friends  and  companions,  for  this  mark  of 
love  and  preference ;  but  there  is  one 
whom  we  should  love  and  prefer  still 
more.  I  therefore  use  the  usual  privi- 
lege granted  of  resigning  my  crown  to 
another,  and  I  place  it  where  you  .will 
best  love  to  see  it.' 

"  She  then  covered  the  brow  of  the 
statue  with  the  sweet  offering.  A  mur- 
mur of  approbation  ran  through  the 
crowd,  and,  kneeling,  they  chanted  the 
Litany.  As  the  last  notes  died  away, 
Mary's  prayer  was  heard:  l  Oh !  blessed 
Mother  and  Queen,  may  I  soon  see  thee 
crowned  in  heaven.' 

" '  And  pray,'  said  Josephine,  who  had 
witnessed  the  ceremony  and  heard  her 
prayer,  but  who  had  not  even  asked  for 
her  grandmother,  'why  could  you  not 
have  crowned  me  instead  of  that  old 
statue  ?  Indeed,  I  fully  expected  to  be 
Queen.' 

"  Mary  answered  in  a  tone  of  gentle 
reproof;  'If  you  deem  yourself  more 
worthy  than  the  Queen  of  heaven  to 
whom  I  have  made  the  offering,  take  the 


124  COTTAGE   EVENING   TALES. 

wreath  from  her  brow,'  but  Josephine 
turned  away  angry  and  abashed. 

"The  party  had  just  commenced  par- 
taking of  strawberries  and  cream,  with 
other  danties,  when  Mary  was  sent  for 
to  attend  her  dying  parent — she  entreat- 
ed her  sister  to  go  with  her,  but  in  vain 
— she  hated  such  melancholy  scenes. 

"  '  I  am  about  to  leave  you,  dear  child,' 
said  old  Nannie,  as  her  grandchild  ap- 
proached, 'and  I  have  yet  a  duty  to 
perform.  I  bequeath  you  to  the  care  of 
Mrs.  Parr,  who  will  be  a  mother  to  you, 
all  the  little  I  possess  is  yours.  Love 
God  with  your  whole  heart,  detest  sin 
as  the  only  real  evil,  be  a  faithful  fol- 
lower of  the  cross,  devote  yourself  to  the 
blessed  Mother  of  God,  and  your  May- 
day prayer  will  be  heard.'  She  kissed 
her  loved  one,  then  her  crucifix,  and 
was  at  rest. 

"  The  summer  passed  away — fresh 
flowers  constantly  graced  the  brow  of 
the  statue,  yet  none  saw  who  placed  them 
there.  Poor  Mary  was  gentle,  loving, 
and  unwearied  in  serving  all,  but  it  was 


SIXTH   EVENING.  125 

evident  that  her  strength  gradually  de- 
creased, and  that  her  thoughts  were  not 
of  this  world.  She  was  often  missed, 
and  generally  found  in  the  May  temple. 
One  day  during  the  winter  she  was  heard 
to  exclaim — '  How  I  sigh  for  May  day.' 

" '  Do  you  expect  to  be  again  crown- 
ed ?'  said  Ellen  smiling. 

"  '  No,  but  I  desire  to  see  the  Queen 
of  May,'  she  replied. 

"  Her  companion  understood  her,  and 
wept,  for  she  saw  her  passing  away  as 
rapidly  as  the  snow  melts  under  the 
beams  of  a  mid-day  sun.  She  never 
spoke  of  her  sister,  who  had  not  chang- 
ed her  evil  ways,  but  they  heard  her 
pronounce  her  name  when  praying  in 
the  temple.  Ellen  now  saw  May  day 
approaching  with  a  saddened  heart. 

"  It  came  at  length  in  sunshine  and 
beauty.  The  villagers  assembled  as  for- 
merly, and  after  reciting  morning  pray- 
ers, they  said  as  usual  the  Ave  Maria. 
On  arriving  at  the  temple,  they  found  in 
the  hand  of  the  statue  a  scroll,  with  the 
words,  l  Our  Queen  reigns  for  ever !'  and 


126  COTTAGE   EVENING  TALES. 

Mary  lying  at  its  feet.  They  raised  her, 
she  was  dead.  Her  prayer  had  been 
heard.  A  death-like  silence  prevailed 
for  a  moment  at  this  sight — then  with  a 
shrill  cry  Josephine  rushed  forward  and 
embraced  the  corpse  of  the  beautiful 
and  blest.  *  Gone,'  said  she,  'gone  to 
bliss,  and  I — what  am  I  ?  Speak  to  me, 
Mary,  and  say  I  shall  be  forgiven.' 

"Three  years  passed  away,  and  the 
priest  was  standing  at  the  death  bed  of 
the  contrite  Josephine.  She  saw  the 
faint  streaks  of  early  dawn  through  the 
lattice,  and  said,  *  Father,  is  not  this  May 
day  ?  I  come — I  come ;' — and  the  soul 
of  the  redeemed  winged  its  flight  to 
another  habitation.  The  villagers  erect- 
ed a  monument  which  may  still  be  seen, 
on  which  the  words :  '  To  our  beloved 
Mary  and  Josephine  Dale,'  were  in- 
scribed." 


THE    EN 


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